Sunday Service Reading #3

I say unto you, That except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven.

The easiest explanation for these words is that they were spoken in criticism of the scribes and Pharisees, particularly since Jesus was often verbally attacked by them, and stood up to them fearlessly. However, it wouldn't have been much of a challenge to the disciples, who aspired to spiritual perfection, to tell them, “Don't be like those who lack any such aspiration.”

Jesus in fact says only a few verses later, “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.”

What Jesus was referring to here, then, was the self-righteousness of the priests. Don't seek perfection, he was saying to his disciples, in the image you project toward others. Don't be satisfied with a goodness born merely of ego-definitions. The highest virtue is to transcend the very thought of personal virtue in the realization of God alone as the Doer. Before this realization, even the thought, “I am kind,” or, “I am truthful,” is self-limiting.

Yet hard the wise Mahatma is to find, that man who sayeth, “All is Vasudev!”

VIDEO of Asha's Service on this Subject from 4-26-09 (no movement for the first five minutes)

MP3 for Download (or online listening) Asha's Service on this Subject from 4-26-09

VIDEO of Anandi's Service on this Subject from 4-26-09

MP3 for Download (or online listening) of Anandi's Service on this Subject from 4-26-09

MP3 for Download (or online listening) of Joe and Gary's Service on this Subject from 4-29-07

MP3 for Download (or online listening) of Anandi's Service on this Subject from 4-27-08

MP3 for Download (or online listening) of Doctor Peter's Service on this Subject from 4-29-07

Long Readings from the 3 Volume Set:
Rays of the Same Light

#17 All Human Qualities, Even Virtues, Must Be Transcended
(#16 in the original book)

Bible

God Alone is the Doer

"I say unto you, That except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven."

Contrast Jesus' statement here with another one by St Paul: "For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast." (Ephesians 2:8,9)

Are these two quotations as mutually contradictory as they seem? Jesus, certainly, is exhorting his disciples to heroic efforts. What he is saying, in effect, is: "Don't be satisfied with standard definitions of spirituality, but seek perfection in God. Look for His approval, not for the approval of man."

Only a few verses later, indeed, Jesus says: "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect."

St. Paul, on the other hand, seems at first glance to be recommending total dependence on grace, and avoidance of spiritual practices of any kind. People often quote these words of his, in fact, to justify a more or less haphazard approach to spirituality.

What St. Paul is really saying is that we should do everything in the consciousness of God's guiding presence within, and not allow ourselves to be motivated by the compulsive desires of the ego. As the seldom-quoted sequel to St. Paul's statement puts it, "For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to devote ourselves to the good deeds for which God has designed us."

St. Paul's words are in fact a ringing call to true Christians to embrace the same kind of spiritual heroism as that to which Jesus exhorted his disciples.

For persons of averagely pious inclination do their alms "before men," as Jesus put it, "to be seen of them." (Matthew 6:1) They seek rather the approval of their fellow religionists than that of God.

How can our righteousness exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees? Never by striving to outshine them in the eyes of others! And never by whipping ourselves to ever greater heights of human virtue, through religiously observing every outward rule and ritual. Even virtue, if it is rooted in the thought, "How virtuous am I!" will keep us firmly chained to the prison walls of ignorance. Our righteousness can exceed that of ordinary religionists only if it springs from the soul, not from the ego.

We must see God alone as the Doer. We must invite Him to act through us, to think through us, to love others through us, to inspire us in every way. Our limited human righteousness must be surrendered at the feet of Infinite Truth; it must become His righteousness, not our own. God's is the Truth which, as Jesus said, will make us free.

Humility, however, as Paramhansa Yogananda used to say with a smile, is not a "put-up job." Every religious follower who knows anything at all of the Scriptures knows that they list humility among the chief virtues. It is therefore not unusual for even the Pharisee-type of religionist to pay lip service to this virtue; to claim to act not of himself, but as the humblest servant of God. It can even be good to make such statements, provided one's purpose in making them is only to affirm, and not to impress others.

Affirmation, however, is not the same thing as actual wisdom. To see God really as the Doer, one must clearly perceive His presence in oneself — as a loving Presence, or as a great Light, or a bursting Joy.

To achieve this transcendental awareness, and to cease living on a level of egoic limitations, it is necessary also to do something else that the Pharisees in every religion fail to do: not only pray to God, but listen for His answer. For how can we approach God's holy presence, if we do all the talking?

There is a fine line of discrimination here, one which many devotees fail to perceive. On the one hand, we cannot open ourselves to God's grace if we grasp at it forcefully with our human will. On the other hand, however, we cannot receive it in ourselves if we simply wait for it to come to us. Nothing in the Scriptures counsels such passivity! The entire Bible is a call to spiritual action — that is to say, to the right kind of action; to egoless, God-attuned action. We must be heroes of God, but not heroes in the applauding arena of men.

If we truly love God, we can know Him. It is natural for one who loves to seek communion with his beloved. It would be a very indifferent lover indeed who insisted on making nothing but long-winded soliloquies to the object of his affections! One who seeks communion with the beloved will not fail also to listen — to receive — to absorb.

Inner communion with God is essential, if one is really to act in the awareness of His guiding presence and inspiration. Both St. Paul and Jesus told us to live in the actual awareness of that inner Presence — or, as St. Paul put it elsewhere, "by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost." (Titus 3:5)

Meditation is the way to inner communion with the Lord. We must use our human will, certainly, but we must use it to set aside our own restless thoughts, our likes and dislikes, and not to affirm them; to open ourselves to God's grace, and to offer ourselves in deep, loving stillness to the Infinite Silence.

In teaching us these truths, God, through the Holy Bible, has spoken to mankind.

Bhagavad Gita

God Alone Is

"Yet hard the wise Mahatma is to find, That man who sayeth, All is Vasudev!'"

These lines were often quoted by Paramhansa Yogananda, in this poetic translation by Sir Edwin Arnold. Mahatma means "great soul," or "sage." Vasudev is a name for the Lord. Rare indeed on earth is it to find one who is so merged in the Infinite that, wherever he looks, he sees only God.

The goal of religion is perfect union with the Lord. We were created to drink unceasingly from the "living water" of God's joy. Nor can we ever be fully satisfied until we have fulfilled that destiny. As St. Augustine wrote, "Father, Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee."

Why are so few people interested in seeking God? Swami Shankara, a great saint two thousand years ago in India, said, "The child is busy with playthings. Youth is busy with sex and romance. The old are busy with sickness and worries. No one is busy with God!"

We are predisposed toward superficiality, toward living at the surface, because from the start of life our energy is drawn outward toward the senses. We must eat; we must relate to others; we must learn to coordinate our body movements; we must learn to communicate. Let's face it, the path to God is an obstacle course! Nature disposes us even before we have any say in the matter to think, "First let me seek my daily bread; only then, maybe, will I have time for my spiritual needs. And anyway, who is this God whom the Scriptures tell me I should worship?"

On the other hand, would it be right for "the pearl of great price" to be for sale at a discount at the local Safeway market? We prize more those things for which we have to work hard, even to suffer.

God knows he has made the course difficult for us. It is wrong to think that He blames us, or, worse still, judges us if every now and then, while running, we fall. Jesus said, "For the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son." (John 5:22) And of the Son's judgment, he said in John 3:17: "For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved." And finally, two sentences later, he made it clear that condemnation comes from people themselves. We condemn ourselves to darkness by neglecting to open our eyes.

God has all eternity to wait for us. Eventually, we must all come to Him — every one of us. We were created for this glorious destiny alone. Sooner or later, even the slowest learners among us must realize that matter simply cannot give us the lasting happiness we are all seeking.

Our consciousness is refined only gradually, as we discover the superior satisfaction that comes from living by soul values: from giving to others, for example, instead of taking from them. There would not even be any real merit in giving to others, if our true desire were to hoard. God doesn't expect us to do violence to our own actual understanding, any more than a teacher in school, if he is a good one, expects a child to grasp more than he is capable of absorbing. Jesus himself said on the cross, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."

We have also, however, eternity to suffer, if we so choose. For the choice to live for ourselves, and not for God, is a choice to live in darkness, and therefore in suffering. In Him alone is true light.

God says elsewhere in the Bhagavad Gita, "Get away from My ocean of suffering and misery!" In The Hound of Heaven, a poem by Francis Thompson that Yogananda often quoted, God says to the devotee, "All things forsake thee, who forsakest Me." And such, whether late or soon, is man's discovery. We cannot find the perfect satisfaction we are all seeking, save only in God.

Yogananda often praised an attitude that he found prevalent in America, expressing it thus: "Eventually? Eventually? Why not now!"

Let us live from today for God. Let us bring Him into everything we do; share with Him our every thought; offer to Him the fruits of all our labors. Thus may we, too, come eventually to look about us and say, "All is Vasudev!"

Longest Reading from the Book
The Promise of Immortality

#17 Works That Lead to Perfection

Outer “good works” and long-faced expressions of piety may impress people who mistake shadow for substance, and to whom shadow seems all the grander because it can be enlarged to any size one desires. True devotion, however, is of the heart. To make an outward display of it is to diminish it, as a shadow diminishes in size the farther the substance that produces it is removed from the light.

“I say unto you,” Jesus Christ stated, “That except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:20)

Jesus often scolded the priests of his time, who, though wearing the outer vestments of religion, lacked inner, spiritual righteousness. The words in this passage, however, hadn’t that sting. He was implying that while it is good to be outwardly religious, for the true devotee it is not good enough, even if he is sincere. The “kingdom of heaven” to which he referred was the state of God-consciousness, not the beautiful astral heavens that most people visualize, where virtuous souls go after death.

We see an example of this “heaven” of divine union in the parable of the mustard seed. The seed grew and became a mighty tree. This story, when read in its entirety, is clearly a metaphor for soul-expansion; no other explanation will suffice. Indeed, only the Gospel of St. Matthew presents this story as a metaphor for “the kingdom of heaven.” Saints Mark and Luke explain it as a parable for “the kingdom of God.”

Jesus had to accommodate his teaching to the understanding of his times. And at that time, certainly, few could accept the staggering concept of cosmic consciousness. Even today, few are ready for such a possibility—even after the mind-expanding discoveries of advanced physics. Not all even of the disciples of Jesus could distinguish mentally between a heaven peopled by angelic beings and the infinite “heaven” of God-consciousness. (This conclusion cannot but be inferred from some of the questions that were put to Jesus.[1])

Jesus in the above passage told his disciples that even righteousness, as ordinarily defined, is not enough for one of lofty spiritual aspiration. It may be pointed out also that, in the passage under consideration, he was not criticizing the priests, though he frequently did so in reply to their attempts to turn people against his teachings. Great souls naturally think in terms of principles, not of personalities. Jesus was not trying to disillusion people with their priesthood. What he wanted was to uplift their consciousness. His words were addressed to human nature generally, not to a particular set of individuals.

It is commonly assumed that religious institutions promote spirituality. Such, however, is not always the case. For human nature is self-centered and biased therefore against teachings that recommend giving up the ego. Even for those who dedicate themselves to the religious life it is seldom easy to abandon old ways of looking at things and old patterns of behavior. The ego, despite a sincere effort to transcend it, cannot but be a central point of reference until, after years of prayer and meditation, divine grace lifts one up to the state of superconsciousness.

The struggle against self-centeredness is universal, and delusion is nothing if not subtle! Just as one begins to think he is winning the battle against pride, for example, he is aghast to find himself becoming proud of his humility! And just when he feels a spirit of charity welling up within him, he ruefully perceives a desire—like a mouse sneaking furtively through the pantry—that others praise him for his charity.

What Jesus was really saying was not that imperfect goodness is evil, but only that normal human perceptions of virtue must be transcended. For even after virtue has been refined, it is still tied to ego-consciousness. As he put it elsewhere, “There is none good but one, that is, God.” (Matthew 19:17)

Human goodness lacks intrinsic value, like clouds at sunset which, though beautiful, lose their radiance once the sun descends out of sight below the horizon. It is obviously good to be good! We should be grateful, then, if divine grace enables us to serve as channels of inspiration to others. We may even rejoice in the beauty of that inspiration. Delusion only raises its cobra’s head when we turn our gaze back upon ourselves as channels for that inspiration, in forgetfulness of its divine source.

It might be helpful at this point to ponder a few of the ways in which religion can prevent, rather than assist, spiritual development. For, as Swami Sri Yukteswar (Paramhansa Yogananda’s guru) said of religious institutions, they are like beehives, the purpose of which is to store honey. Religious institutions, similarly, can help people to husband the nectar of devotion. Association with other seekers on the path is important for the devotee, especially if he is a beginner. Living in association with worldly people, or in the absence of spiritual company, makes it difficult for the average person, caught as he is in the web of restlessness, to think of God.

Unfortunately, religious institutions themselves often stray from their spiritual calling, and dedicate themselves to making their “hive” larger, more important, and more magnificent than any other. Such dedication may be an act of devotion, but if too much energy is spent on what the modern sociologist might term “Hival Improvement,” the quality of the nectar will diminish. Priests, clergymen, and other religionists often allow themselves to become so immersed in organizational activities that they forget the necessity for devotion. Years of institutional zeal may kill any hope of reviving the true spirit of religion, as one cannot light a fire with a damp matchstick. In this context a statement comes to mind, one that was made centuries ago by St. Odo of Cluny. “The floors of hell,” he said, “are paved with the bald pates of clergymen!”

A spiritual group needs the inspiration of a living person. Mere rules and printed instructions are no substitutes for it. Without such inspiration, no matter how inspired a group was at its inception, time will draw it down into a mire of mediocrity. The real strength of every group is power emanating from its source. In the case of Christianity, that power derives ultimately from Jesus Christ. It also depends on people’s devotional attunement with him. Finally, however, it depends on the living presence of at least one inspired individual. This person need not be the leader. Even the cook, or the gardener, if he or she is filled with love for God, can function as the actual inspiration for an entire community.

The living memory only of a saint can help to keep devotion alive through those disciples for whom that memory is still fresh. If the disciples themselves lose the immediacy of that memory, however, and assuming no one is left to carry forward the baton of inspiration, the group’s devotion will wither in time like a plant without water.

That religious institutions should contain members of the “scribe and Pharisee” type is inevitable. Most people are satisfied with relative goodness, for their own aspiration soars no higher than the attainment after death of an existence in surroundings of astral beauty. Religious institutionalism is better, certainly, than blatant materialism. A problem religious institutions face, however, is the general tendency of every living thing toward either self-expansion or contraction. It is usually easier to maintain the spirituality of a small group than of a large one, provided that the group has someone of genuine charisma to inspire it. St. Teresa of Avila sought to combat spiritual mediocrity in her monasteries by limiting the number of their residents to eighteen.

As spiritual groups increase in size, they become not only organized, but institutionalized. Their leaders often reason that, since God is the Supreme Good, any increase in membership will benefit humanity itself. Once proselytizing zeal sets in like concrete, it is easy for one to be diverted from his spiritual goals. Mass conversion becomes a general ambition, and fervor for inner communion with God becomes increasingly viewed as, at best, a threat to group spirit.

To inspire thousands is no doubt better than to inspire only a handful, provided those thousands truly are inspired. The sheer effort involved in reaching them, however, cannot but affect one’s own devotion. The attempt to satisfy mass expectations is one way of diluting high aspiration. In the very effort to transform those expectations into love for God, one’s own devotion becomes compromised. The point is finally reached where worldly alternatives—the sale of “indulgences” in Martin Luther’s day; the emotional rallies and “revivals” in our own—become acceptable as a proper means of attracting people to their “higher good.”

Treading at first softly, then arrogantly, on the heels of such compromise comes the desire for worldly power, money, and fame. Justification for these ambitions is sought in the claim that power makes it possible to be more influential for good; that money makes it easier to achieve that end; and that fame can focus people’s enthusiasm and make it possible to draw them to God.

Many religious leaders find this reasoning persuasive, indeed irresistible. Unfortunately, compromise always ends up compromising the compromisers. Power, money, and fame are snares set for the unwary by Delusion. No matter how cleverly one rationalizes these roundabout means to spiritual ends, they become ends, at last, in themselves. A zealous servant of God may feel that he is working for the Lord, but if his activities inspire no devotion in his own heart, how can they inspire it in the hearts of others? If once he recognizes his spiritual dryness, he should ask himself, “What am I really accomplishing?”

Often, even a service that began in a spirit of deep sincerity develops gradually into a tendency—reluctant at first, then accepted with a shrug as a regrettable necessity—to lie, cheat, and treat with ruthless indifference the needs of other people, whose well-being is perceived as being secondary in importance to the greater good. Resignation gradually develops toward destroying people’s reputations for the sake of that “greater good.” In extreme cases, even murder is countenanced—again, always, for the “greater good.” In time, it becomes glaringly evident that the person they serve is not God, but the one we’ll call “that other fellow.”

When the “good” of an institution takes precedence over normal human decency, Satan smiles, for he is well pleased!

Jesus in the above passage is saying, “Don’t be satisfied with orthodox definitions of spirituality. Seek in God absolute, not relative, perfection. Don’t court the praises of fools. Don’t even seek verbal approval of your religious superiors. Seek it inwardly, from God.” Indeed, only a few verses later Jesus states, “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.”

Christians often seek justification for their lackluster devotion and haphazard approach to spirituality in the words of St. Paul: “For by grace are ye saved through faith, and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.” (Ephesians 2:8,9) Those so-called Christians conveniently ignore St. Paul’s sequel to that statement: “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to devote ourselves to the good deeds for which God has designed us.” What Paul was really saying was that we should do everything with the awareness of God’s guidance within. We should never allow ourselves to be driven by egoic desires.

How can our own righteousness exceed that of “the scribes and Pharisees”? Certainly not by striving to outshine them or anyone else by our religiosity. Comparisons, especially in this sense, are “odious.” We cannot excel spiritually, either, by merely observing a set of outer religious rules. True righteousness is of the soul, invisible to human eyes although its effects usually are evident. Indeed, true righteousness is more often misunderstood and condemned by self-righteous people than appreciated by them.

We must consciously invite God into our lives: ask Him to use our hands, feet, and voices; to think His thoughts through us; to love through us; to inspire others in every way through our vibrations and example. Human righteousness must be offered onto the altar of Infinite awareness to be transformed into divine truth. For truth alone, Jesus said, can make one free.

To achieve transcendental freedom from egoic confinement requires far more than personal righteousness. It requires absolute, impersonal dedication to truth. Both St. Paul and Jesus Christ urged us to live in the Divine Presence; not only to pray, but to commune with God. Prayer is the practice of talking to the Lord; meditation is inner communion with Him.

Our will, then, must be directed toward conquering whatever resistance we have in ourselves to the flow of divine grace and to truth. Our restless thoughts, our likes and dislikes, our desires for worldly success—all these must be resolutely offered up in the silence to God’s love.

This translation, in the poetic rendition of Sir Edwin Arnold, was often quoted by Paramhansa Yogananda. Mahatma means “great soul”; Vasudev is a name for the Lord. It is rare to find anyone so absorbed in the Infinite that wherever he turns his gaze he beholds only God. Generally speaking, it is not good to compare oneself with others, but if one must make that comparison let it be with the saints. Let it inspire us to become more like them!

God does not condemn people for sinning. As goodness is relative, so also is sinfulness. We must see the fact of relativity as an encouragement not to accept any limitation on our own spiritual growth. As Jesus said, “The Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son.” (John 5:22) Judgment, in fact, comes not even from Christ, for Jesus stated also, “God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.” (John 3:17) It is we who judge ourselves—we, and the Christ who dwells at the center of our own being. We judge ourselves when we err. Jesus makes this point again two sentences later: “Every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved.” The Christ consciousness reproaches us silently when we err. We, unfortunately, in our infatuation with worldly things, create noise and confusion in the hope of silencing that soundless reprimand.

God awaits us eternally. It is impossible for anyone not to return to Him, eventually; it was for this destiny that we were all created. Even the slowest learner must come to realize, however late in his journey, that lasting happiness simply does not exist outside the Self.

Human consciousness, indeed, can be refined only gradually. It must be convinced to its core that the fulfillment it seeks really does lie in God alone. In stages along the way, the ego learns that true power lies in self-surrender, not in self-affirmation; that happiness comes from sharing with others, not from selfish gain; that far greater fulfillment can be found in loving them than in excluding anyone from one’s sympathies.

If egoic individuality were intrinsic to human nature, Nature herself would dictate the wisdom of seizing everything one can for oneself. This advice has been actually propounded by a number of well-known (but unknowing!) philosophers, whose “love of wisdom” would be better described as love for their own conceits. Selfishness, however, is an offense against human nature. All of us are inextricably woven together, like threads running through the fabric of all life.

A seed grows slowly to become a tree. God doesn’t expect us by the mere reading of scripture to become wise, any more than a schoolteacher expects children in his charge to absorb knowledge for which they are as yet unprepared. We have eternity in which to attain perfection.

We have also eternity, however, in which to suffer, if we so choose! The alternatives are simple: suffering on the one hand, joy on the other; turmoil on the one hand, peace on the other; darkness on the one hand, light on the other.

Francis Thompson’s great spiritual poem, The Hound of Heaven, often quoted lovingly by Paramhansa Yogananda, describes God as saying to the soul, “All things forsake thee, who forsakest Me.” Such must be the discovery, whether late or soon, of every human being. Fulfillment achieves permanence only when it is anchored in God.

How soon shall that fulfillment be achieved? That is for each of us to decide. We may find it helpful, however, to bear in mind an attitude that Yogananda admired in America. As he put it: “Eventually? Eventually? Why not now! That is the spirit I like in this country!” Let us resolve from now on to live for God: to include Him in all that we do; to share with Him our every thought; to offer the fruit of our labors to Him alone. Thus may we too, someday, be in a position to declare, as the “wise mahatma” does: “All is Vasudev!”

[1]The “mother of Zebedee’s children,” for example, asked Jesus, “Grant that these my two sons may sit, the one on thy right hand, and the other on the left, in thy kingdom.” Jesus, not wanting to burden her with an explanation for which she was not ready, replied simply, “You know not what you ask.” (Matthew 20:21,22)