Sunday Service Reading #4

The Gospel of St. John contains some of the most profound spiritual teachings in the Bible. In the first Chapter many subtle truths are suggested concerning higher stages of Self-realization.

Here, John the Baptist is described as one reaching up toward that high state. “He was not that light,” the Gospel tells us, “but was sent to bear witness of that light.” Jesus Christ, by contrast, is described as the light itself. “That was the true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not.”

One essential truth stands out in this teaching: that Jesus came not to dogmatize people with a new teaching, but to bring them timeless, universal truths. Disciples saw the master clothed in human form, and therefore judged him in terms of his greatness relative to the greatness of other teachers. Wisdom, however, sees the master's very greatness in terms of a cosmic unity. There is a passage in the book The Path, by Swami Kriyananda, in which this point is emphasized. The Master, Paramhansa Yogananda, explained,

“The saint who attains that exalted consciousness never says, ‘I am God,’ for he sees it was the vast Ocean that became his little wave of ego. The wave, in other words, would not claim, when referring to the little self, to be the Ocean.”

At this juncture Debi, who was present, cried excitedly, “But Sir, if you are one with that Ocean, that means you are God!”

“But still, Sir, you are one with Him, and He is the only reality. That means you, too, are God.”

“You aren't identified with your body, Sir, so one may still say that you are God.”

“Well, in that case why do you say, ‘You’? You, too, are that! In a discussion of this sort, it is less confusing if we say, ‘He.'”

“It's only your humility, Sir,” Debi broke in, “that makes you distinguish between yourself and Him.”

Triumphantly Debi cried, “But if you have no ego left, that means you are God!”

Master laughingly continued the earlier statement, which Debi had interrupted: “The Scriptures say, ‘He who knows Brahma becomes Brahma.'”

Master rejoined, still laughingly, “I didn't say it. It's the Scriptures that say so.” Master, in other words, would not identify those words with the human body speaking them. It was in his overarching spirit that he saw himself one with the Infinite. But Debi was unable to make this mental leap from a pure expression of Infinity to Infinity Itself.

“You quoted those Scriptures, Sir,” he reminded Master relentlessly. “That means you agree with them!”

Recognizing that the distinction was, perhaps, too subtle for many to grasp, Master concluded, “Well, he who says he is God, isn't God. And,” he added with a smile, “he who says he isn't, isn't!”

The greater a spiritual teaching, the more greatly we betray it by particularizing it with dogmas. Truth itself, not the Christian truth or the Hindu truth, incarnates on earth with the birth of a fully liberated master. As the Bhagavad Gita teaches in the fourth Chapter:

Unborn, changeless, Lord of Creation and controller of My cosmic nature though I am, yet entering Nature I am dressed in the cosmic garment of My own maya (delusion).

O Bharata, whenever virtue declines and vice predominates, I incarnate on earth. Taking visible form, I come to destroy evil and re-establish virtue.

VIDEO of Nitai's Service on the Subject from 1-23-11

MP3 for Download or online listening of Nitai's Service on the Subject from 1-23-11

VIDEO of Asha's Service on the Subject from 1-25-09

MP3 for Download or online listening of Asha's Service on the Subject from 1-25-09

VIDEO of Maria McSweeney's Service on the Subject from 1-24-10

MP3 for Download or online listening of Maria McSweeney's Service on the Subject from 1-24-10

VIDEO of Bharat's Service on the Subject from 1-25-09

MP3 for Download or online listening of of Bharat's Service on the Subject from 1-25-09

MP3 for Download or online listening of Devi's Service on this subject from 1-27-08

MP3 for Download or online listening of Jyotish's Service on this subject from 1-28-07

MP3 for Download or online listening of Durga's Service on this subject from 1-22-06

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

#4: The Infinite Christ
("Jesus: Window Onto the Infinite" in the original book)

This passage is from the Gospel of St. John, Chapter 1, the 6th to the 14th Verses:

"There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth."

The distinction drawn here by the Bible between John the Baptist and Jesus is important. John had attained to a high degree of spiritual advancement, one which enabled him to commune easily with the inner light. He could therefore "bear witness of it"; in other words, speak of it with authority. He had not yet, however, merged his consciousness in the Light so perfectly that he no longer saw himself as having a separate existence from that Light.

Jesus had attained such spiritual perfection. His ego had become dissolved in the Infinite. By God's grace, his consciousness was now united to the infinite Light. He was the Christ, the anointed of God. He and the Father were One.

We find here also another important distinction. The human mind is naturally drawn to Jesus in his humanity. St. John, however, even while speaking of him as living in a human body, describes him here in purely spiritual terms. "That," he says, "which lighteth every man that cometh into the world was the true light." He meant that Jesus "lighteth every man"; that Jesus "was the true light." Jesus, seen in this context, wasn't even what people saw as the man, Jesus: He was the infinite Christ. St. John doesn't even name him in this passage, though he names John the Baptist.

"He was in the world," says the Bible, "and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not." The world, of course, knew the man, Jesus. St. John is telling us that Jesus was not the human being that he seemed to be. He was the Infinite Spirit — that which created the very universe. "The world was made by him," wrote St. John. It was this indwelling reality that the world knew not. They saw the outward human form, but that which they beheld with their physical eyes was only a channel for the higher reality.

It was people's mistaken perception of Jesus that prompted him to say to them elsewhere, "Before Abraham was, I am."

"He came unto his own," St. John tells us, "and his own received him not." The Jewish people, as a nation, were "his own," for they had chosen God. As Yogananda put it, "God chooses those who choose Him." Because of the Jews' conscious choice, the Lord in turn "chose" them.

The Jews as a people, however, little understood Whom it was, in reality, they had chosen. The majority could touch God only as if at the hem of His garment, through their human belief. Few, naturally, were advanced enough spiritually to know Him by direct inner perception.

Many times in the history of religion has God come to earth through His enlightened sons, in answer to the loving call of His devotees. Few, however, even among these — "His own" — are spiritually advanced enough to see beyond the outward, human form of the master to the indwelling Spirit.

All those who truly love Jesus should strive earnestly to probe beneath the surface of appearances — beneath his outward humanity — beneath his beautiful earthly life — and discover the infinite Christ within. For that one Christ consciousness dwells forever in each of us.

"Unborn, changeless, Lord of Creation and controller of My cosmic nature though I am, yet entering Nature I am dressed in the cosmic garment of My own maya (delusion).

"O Bharata, whenever virtue declines and vice predominates, I incarnate on earth. Taking visible form, I come to destroy evil and re-establish virtue."

Here the Bhagavad Gita confronts a great mystery. God is described in both the Hindu and Christian religions as having incarnated on earth: In the Christian religion, as Jesus; in the Hindu, as Krishna and as other great masters who from time to time have been sent to earth as saviors of mankind.

Among orthodox Christians, there is no question of any other divine incarnation than that of Jesus. His birth is accepted as unique. The great mystery, therefore, of how such an event could have taken place is not deeply pondered. It is accepted as, quite simply, miraculous.

In the Hindu religion, however, because of the Scriptural promise of repeated incarnations of God, it is more natural that there should have been attempts made to explain the meaning of divine incarnation.

The vast Spirit, to begin with, would seem indeed to be conscious of mankind. Prayers have often been answered, many of them miraculously. Indeed, the concept of omnipresence implies infinitesimal smallness quite as much as infinite immensity. The same is true of the concept of omniscience. As Jesus put it, "The very hairs on your head are all numbered." (Matthew 10:30)

God has appeared in vision to saints in every age. He has been seen as a Light, heard as a Sound of many waters or of mighty thunder, felt as an overwhelming Love, or as infinite Bliss. His light has taken on form, human or otherwise. (To Moses He spoke out of a burning bush.) His sound has become a voice and expressed itself in human speech. His love has been manifested in the radiant gaze of the Divine Mother, or of Jesus, or Krishna, and in many other divine manifestations of light and ecstatic consciousness. No such experience could ever define Him, in the sense of limiting Him. Yet every experience has manifested something of His infinite nature.

God created everything. Everything, therefore, in a sense, is His manifestation. In superconscious experiences, however, His manifestation is special, for it does not conceal the indwelling Spirit: It reveals it.

Divine visions express God's will openly to man. They spiritualize whomsoever they touch. They are a conscious revelation of the divine reality, in a way that material objects and unenlightened human beings can never be.

God's superconscious manifestations, in visions and the like, are always fleeting — like the waves on a sea. As the waves, in their movement and diversity, recall us ever to the sea's vastness, so divine manifestations are intended to recall our minds to the vast Reality they express.

There is nothing strange in the thought of God manifesting Himself in human form. He does so, indeed, in a sense every time He appears in vision to a saint. For through that saint's testimony, and through the magnetic influence of his ecstasy, the Lord becomes more of a vivid reality to others. God may be said to manifest Himself through every saint who lives in a state of inner communion with Him.

Such a saint, then, who is born in a state of constant communion because freed of the delusion of ego, may be said to be already, in a sense, an incarnation of the divine consciousness. If nothing remains of his limited ego, and if that master's consciousness is only of God's presence within, his very mission on earth is like a wave rising in full consciousness upon the surface of the infinite sea, expressing consciously — not itself — but the vast sea around it.

No wave could ever express that vastness perfectly. Nor could any divine manifestation in human form be God's only, unique, human manifestation.

God could no doubt manifest Himself on earth directly. He could even materialize a human body and live forever among men, thereby giving people everywhere a living focus for their devotion. Were He to do so, however, He would distract people from seeking Him in themselves, where alone He can actually be realized, and from expanding their little consciousness into His infinite bliss.

Jesus reminded his disciples, "The kingdom of God is within." The highest Scriptural teachings are ever a reminder of this truth: namely, that God must be sought within man, not outside of him through the senses.

No man is God. The wave cannot pretend to be the ocean. The ocean of divine awareness, however, which has become all the waves of physical phenomena, may be said to express itself consciously through those great souls whose consciousness is merged in the Lord.

We, too, as devotees, should strive always to "incarnate" the divine consciousness in our own lives. Let us live more by inner guidance. Let us strive to be channels of divine inspiration. Let us heed God's call in the soul to seek Him, to know Him, to merge in Him. Thus may we find release from our age-old delusion of separateness from His infinite bliss.

Longest Reading from the Book
The Promise of Immortality

#4 The Infinite Christ
("The Incarnation" in the original book)

Probably the greatest mystery in Christian theology is that of the Incarnation. Jesus, though human, is believed also to be the Son of God. An early challenge to the very survival of Christianity centered on this point. It was delivered in the Fourth Century A.D. by Arius, a prominent Greek theologian, who caused a major rift in the church by claiming that Jesus was only a man, and therefore not the Son of God. Had Arianism become universally accepted—and it very nearly was—Christ would have become little more than a legend, and his teachings would have been studied as a philosophy, like the teachings of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius.

The divinity of Christ has been a problem not only for Christians. The Jews have seen in this doctrine a contradiction of the basic tenet of their religion: “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.” How, they ask, can the one God be also triune? And how can Jesus Christ, a human being, belong to that supposed divine Trinity as the Son of Infinite God? To Jews even today, this teaching is idolatrous.

Sometimes, when one is faced with paradoxes of this kind, it helps to see how they have been treated in other religions. For in wisdom there can be no controversy. As Paramhansa Yogananda put it, “Fools argue; wise men discuss.” Two religions may sometimes appear to differ on some essential point, whereas a third, approaching the matter from another direction, shows the disagreement to be only a result of cultural conditioning, or a simple matter of definition. The differences, in other words, are not fundamental. People who fan religious controversies are without spiritual understanding. For Truth, like God, is one. Two expressions of truth cannot be mutually contradictory. Differences can appear only in its application, which may vary according to circumstances. If a fundamental contradiction occurs, it can only be due to that most common of human failings: misunderstanding.

To test the truth of a spiritual teaching, ask yourself this question first: “Is it consistent with the high spiritual traditions of the ages?” If the answer is yes, ask another one: “Is this teaching vibrant with spiritual power; does it suggest an ‘aura’ of divine authority?” Genuinely spiritual works resonate with a divine conviction that cannot be manufactured merely by the skillful use of words. On the other hand, vibrant power is virtually absent from false teachings. They lack conviction, are vague, and suggest no “aura” at all except, perhaps, some sort of grey mist. False teachings, finally, strike one as being intended to impress people, not to uplift them.

Paramhansa Yogananda told the story of a man, without naming him, who wrote a religious treatise under the “inspiration” of a strong imagination. Desirous of having his treatise accepted as scripture, he buried it under a tree and then bided his time. Fifteen years later, announcing that he’d had an angelic visitation, he guided people to that spot, dug with a spade, and “discovered” the manuscript he himself had buried years earlier. By now the writing had acquired a certain patina. “A revelation!” the man cried, and his followers, awe-struck at this “miracle,” grew numerous. Their “faith,” however, was but a pious presumption; it in no way validated the manuscript.

Anyone who desired to write a new scripture couldn’t go far wrong, of course, in telling people to be humble, honest, and loving to all. It would be virtually incumbent on him, in fact, to include injunctions of this sort in his treatise. One feels safe in assuming, however, that this “revelation” contained more than mere truisms; otherwise, why would he have gone to all that trouble over it? He must have felt he needed to add a few “extras”: the more startling, the better. His “scripture” soared, one imagines, into the rarefied atmosphere of pure fantasy, including, perhaps, detailed descriptions of heaven and of the “lifestyle” there, in “eternity.” One wouldn’t expect the manuscript to give such practical advice as how to progress spiritually, or how to transcend phenomena and experience union with God. Minds that find inspiration in etheric wonders find little to excite their imagination in spiritual practicality.

It is important to test spiritual claims by the yardstick of how well they agree with sacred traditions. Jesus for this reason frequently quoted scripture. He demonstrated not only that his coming had been foretold in the ancient prophecies, but that the teachings of the prophets coincided with his own. He did not actually need the prophets to corroborate his teachings, which he’d received directly from God Himself. He quoted them to convince people who wanted outward reassurance that his teachings were rooted in tradition.

True religious teaching is similar to modern science in several respects. Both, for example, are devoted to truth. Both also rely on direct experience rather than on hearsay evidence. Tradition, moreover, is important in both disciplines; novelty is viewed skeptically until it has been proved by the test of experience. From this point on, the two disciplines go their separate ways. For religion insists that true knowledge depends not on progressive discovery, but on eternal wisdom. Divine truths, unlike scientific facts, are not phenomenal but changeless, existent forever at the very heart of being. The teachings of Jesus Christ may have been “news” to the spiritual illiterates of his day, but they were not revolutionary. As he himself put it, “Think not that I am come to destroy the law . . . : I am come not to destroy, but to fulfill.” (Matthew 5:17)

Nowadays, people have become increasingly aware of other cultures and spiritual traditions, and of the fact that many of the teachings of Jesus Christ, and of Judaism, are fundamental to the tenets of other religions also. Indeed, it is becoming evident that the major religions agree with one another on most issues.

What, then, of those issues on which they disagree? Are the disagreements only apparent, or are they actual? Are they fundamental, or merely superficial?

The Jewish challenge to Christianity on the divinity of Christ is certainly a case in point. As we shall see, this disagreement is only apparent. It is a question of definition. Indeed, once the Christian claim is rightly understood it becomes clear that it excludes no other religion.

A search for fresh insight outside the Judeo-Christian tradition turns up a solution in the scriptures of India. The Hindu teachings in no way contradict the Christian belief in the divinity of Jesus Christ. Nor do they contradict Judaism’s objection to that belief. What the Hindu teachings do is broaden the teaching; they show that divine incarnation is a universal truth, and that it in no way opposes the doctrine, “The Lord is one.”

“Allah ho akbar!” cry the Muslims: “God is one!” The Bhagavad Gita said it long ago: God is one, without a second, formless, and indivisible. That scripture goes on to declare that the Supreme Spirit takes on the appearance of form in creating the universe. Everything in existence is a manifestation of God’s consciousness. There is nothing, anywhere, except that consciousness. Creation is born of an infinity of thoughts at the surface, so to speak, of the Creator’s mind.

The divine light shines at the heart of matter, somewhat like sunlight shining on an infinite number of window panes. Certain of the panes are blackened by the soot of inertia and are virtually opaque. The only evidence left of the sunlight is the warmth on the window panes.

Gradually, through the process of evolution, the soot is rubbed off, and awareness begins to shine through the panes.

In the early stages of evolution, awareness is still dim. The cleansing process is therefore slow. The keener the awareness, the more accelerated the process becomes. At first, the sunlight is visible in the windows not as light, but only as a diminution of darkness.

Evolution gradually removes soot from the glass. Thus, awareness manifests itself with steadily increasing clarity. Instinctual expression in the lower animals evolves to greater degrees of intelligence, until finally, in mankind, it becomes egoic and keenly self-aware. Until human beings develop spiritual awareness, however, their “window panes” remain clouded, their glass translucent but not transparent. The glass seems to shine with its own light. Thus, the intelligent awareness of human beings seems entirely their own.

As one develops spiritual awareness, however, his window pane becomes transparent. To those of spiritual sensitivity, then, it is evident that the expanded consciousness of the saints cannot be only theirs.

A symbol of the divine grace filtering through human consciousness is the stained glass windows in Christian churches. Ego-consciousness, suggested in the coloring of the panes, thins finally, in the case of great masters, to transparency. The masters transmit the full effulgence of the sun’s light.

To most people, a master seems much like other human beings: a window opening, merely; that is to say, a physical body. They usually sense in him, however, some greater-than-ordinary power. Those who are themselves developed spiritually behold in him that light which “lighteth all men.” The light may appear as an actual halo around his head, as in classical paintings of the saints, or even surrounding his whole body. Paramhansa Yogananda described Sri Yukteswar’s aura once as filling the entire train in which the great guru was traveling.

The Bible, somewhat obliquely, expresses the same truth. In the first chapter of St. John’s Gospel, Jesus is described in his essential nature as impersonal. John describes him later on as also human, showing that the impersonal and the personal are aspects of the same reality. In verses 6–14, John states:

“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God.”

The distinction here between John the Baptist, the saint, and Jesus, the Christ, is fundamental. John had attained a high level of spirituality. His consciousness was absorbed in contemplation of the inner light; he could therefore “bear witness of it,” which is to say, speak of it with authority. John had not yet so merged his consciousness in that light, however, as to behold himself as having no existence apart from it.

Jesus, on the other hand, had reached the state of absolute perfection. Inwardly, he had realized himself as one with the light of God. His self-awareness was therefore infinite; Jesus, the man, was united in consciousness to the omnipresent Christ.

It is important to understand that conscious oneness with God was not uniquely the case with Jesus Christ. What he represented, rather, was the eternal potential of every soul. Divine union is the eventual destiny of us all, as His manifestations. Outside of God, there can be no other reality. Jesus was sent not to strike awe in people’s hearts at his greatness, but to remind them of their own potential greatness, in God.

The distinction between Jesus, the man, and the infinite Christ consciousness is explained further in this passage. For though human nature feels a natural attraction to Jesus, the perfect human being, the Gospel emphasizes that he was far more than what he appeared to be. “That which lighteth every man that cometh into the world was the true light.” Because the divine light “lighteth every man,” each of us has the divine responsibility to realize in that light the essence of his own being.

It is significant that this passage doesn’t name Jesus, while it names John the Baptist. “He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not.” The “world” knew Jesus, the man. What the Gospel is saying is that Jesus, in his divine reality, was not that which the world saw with physical eyes. People beheld him as the son of Joseph and Mary: Few could recognize him as the Son of the Infinite Father. It was people’s limited perception of Jesus that prompted him to say, on one occasion, “Before Abraham was, I am.” (John 8:58)

Jesus said also in another passage, “He that hath seen me hath seen the Father.”[1] This statement was made in reference not to his human body—which everyone, even his judges and executioners, could see clearly—but to his soul. Only someone who was spiritually advanced could perceive him in his spiritual nature, for which the body was but a cloak. Only a few persons, then, were ever blessed to see him as one with the Father.[2]

“He came unto his own, and his own received him not.” Who—one asks—were “his own”? Since ancient times the Jews had considered themselves “God’s chosen people.” This didn’t mean they were special favorites of God’s, though some of them may have believed so. They had been chosen, rather, because of their own desire to serve God. Paramhansa Yogananda said, “God ‘chooses’ those who choose Him.” The Jews had elected as a people to place God first in their lives. It was this choice that separated them from other peoples. Those peoples, if they were interested in such matters at all, prayed for the fulfillment of their worldly desires, and gave little thought to serving God, unless by doing so they could gain a bargaining position with Him.

To be chosen of God doesn’t mean basking in heavenly blessings from then on, while others (to quote from the musical, Showboat) “tote dat barge” and “lift dat bale.” Far from it! Instead of finding an alleviation of life’s normal tests, one may well find their severity increased. To choose God means to accept willingly the task of self-purification, so that one’s soul may soar to spiritual heights. It means purging the heart of every earthly desire and attachment. God’s will for us is that we reclaim our eternal state of oneness with Him.

This is not to say that living for God is, spiritually, like a sort of Charge of the Light Brigade or a Japanese kamikaze mission. Countless blessings come on the spiritual path. Even the tests become increasingly easy to bear.

Often there is, at first, a spiritual “honeymoon” when the soul experiences a constant flow of grace. Usually, then, there comes a “middle ground” when the seeker finds he must work hard on himself. Only later does the flow of grace return, and, with it, unceasing sweetness. From this point on, the tests themselves seem almost inconsequential.

Once a person dedicates himself to God and refuses any longer to worship the “idol” of materialism, the course of his life changes dramatically. For God asks that he offer to Him everything he has and is. The process is exacting. Spiritual novices may not realize how little ego-reassurance they are going to receive. For God’s plan for us is what Jesus expressed in his command to the disciples, “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.” (Matthew 5:48)

If our love for God is sincere, He will help us to rid ourselves of every delusion, so that we become impersonal in outlook even as He is; non-attached to the things of this world; and infinite in our love.

The devotee naturally asks, How can I “love God with all my heart” and at the same time love Him impersonally? Paramhansa Yogananda explained this apparent paradox by saying that we must look upon any aspect of God that we hold dear as an expression of Infinity. Behold infinite consciousness, he said, in the eyes, especially. To develop “infinite-mindedness,” offer back to God any blessings you receive from Him, and don’t hug them, even in gratitude, to yourself.

History describes the Jews as a stiff-necked people. It was, of course, they who wrote the history; self-deprecation is a notable Jewish trait! There may, however, be another reason also for their stubbornness. For the emphasis in Judaism on the absoluteness of spiritual law must have had a stiffening effect also on their will.

Stubbornness was at the same time, however, their virtue. For their loyalty to truth inspired dedication to the supreme Truth: God. To the extent that their stubbornness was also a shortcoming, it made them excessively reliant on divine law, and inadequately surrendered to divine love. In time, they came to equate truth with theological legalisms. Thus, their intuitive heart-feeling was left under-developed; they became intellectually brittle, the result of too much reasoning.

When reason lacks the guiding hand of intuition, it tends to roam about freely, like an unbridled horse, and often ends up grazing among the brambles of doubt. The problem is not that intuitive feeling is an obstruction to clear reasoning. Quite the opposite! Reason itself, rather, cannot develop clarity unless it is balanced by intuitive feeling. Reason alone, deaf to the promptings of intuition, inclines to depend on concrete facts for its conclusions. Preoccupied with material evidence, it often develops a materialistic outlook. Intellect, if unbridled and unguided by intuitive feeling, strays on endless bypaths of questions and rationalizations.

The teaching of Jesus was a bold challenge to such intellectual meandering. Instead, what he declared frequently, and powerfully, was the need to base one’s faith on actual experience.

His mission occurred at a time in history when the Jews were at a crossroads. It was time for them to reemphasize their divine destiny. Jesus told them, in effect, “Return to the way of intuitive love. Hold yourselves humbly open to the channels God sends you, and be not proud in your intellectuality, lest you lose touch with God’s grace.”

Mosaic law had commanded them to reject idolatry. Over the centuries, however, they had embraced it anew, as a golden calf of a new kind: that of material attachment. It was the rabbis’ materialism, not their faith in God, that caused them to reject as false a messiah who preached the supremacy of love, and who wandered penniless among the common people rather than parading in regal splendor. The shout went up at the end: “Crucify him!” The rabbis had forsaken devotion, and were more interested in the clever splitting of theological hairs. Insensitive to the divine greatness in Jesus, they saw in him merely a rabble-rouser and a threat to their priestly authority.

Excessive dependence on material security is not compatible with divine faith. As God in the aspect of the Divine Mother once said to Paramhansa Yogananda, “Those to whom I give too much, I do not give Myself.”

What the Jews expected of a messiah was a great and powerful king, who would drive out the Romans and return Israel to its erstwhile glory. Instead, what they got was far more than a king: a very king of kings! The teachings of Jesus, the spiritual master, were destined eventually to conquer Rome. He never played the role others expected of him, however. What did he care for their expectations? It was God he served, not the idol of popular approval! He rejected a majestic role, and showed himself as unlike a warrior skilled in the martial arts as anyone could imagine. The priests especially, blinded by theological legalisms, were unable to appreciate his spiritual refinement. For only the pure in heart can appreciate, or even perceive, greatness in simplicity. Most people consider greatness to be demonstrated by worldly power. Jesus had come as God comes to the soul: “like a thief in the night.”[3] Not surprisingly, considering the rabbis’ excessive intellectuality, “They received him not.”

Nevertheless, the Jews at least wanted to abide by God’s ways. For their rejection of that one whom God had sent to them, they suffered. The Law in which they believed so exactly had to exact its own price. Human beings cannot dictate what the law shall do. Every aspect of life is governed by divine law: the law of cause and effect, or karma. This law is infallible, whatever man’s misunderstanding of it.

Whatever trials we receive in life are those, always, which we attract to ourselves. In our souls we recognize the lessons we need to learn. Indeed, on deeper-than-conscious levels we invite them. The Jews’ adherence to divine law was focused too narrowly. They were unaware of the law’s balancing aspect, which is love. Therefore, they became scattered abroad.

Fortunately for them, however, they retained their commitment to divine truth. Moreover—to their credit, if also to their misfortune—they retained their strong will. They needed, as a people, to become more sensitive to the sweetness of divine love. God, however, never turns away from those who seek Him earnestly. The very tests the Jews received through the workings of divine law were meant to nudge them toward eventual wakefulness in Him. It was their destiny to suffer until they could declare with humility, as Jesus told them they must do: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”[4]

What the Jews needed, and still need as a people, was to learn the kindlier, more self-giving path of devotion. Today, instead of determinedly carving out a nation for themselves and claiming that it is theirs by divine right,[5] they need to understand that the true “promised land” was always inward, and only symbolized outwardly in a “land of milk and honey.” Jesus pointed out this truth to them in the words, “Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you.” (Luke 17:21) It was to some extent, alas, his very insistence on this truth that made them reject him so violently.

It must be understood that the Jews were by no means unique in their confusion of spiritual with worldly glory. Christians—not all of them, certainly, just as, quite as certainly, not all Jews—have been as guilty. Majestic cathedrals have been raised so as to impress people with the majesty of the Christian religion. For centuries, popes schemed for worldly dominion. Christianity has traveled far, in these two thousand years since its inception, from the true “kingdom” promised in the Bible. Most Christians, while glorifying God outwardly with solemn processions and loud hymns of praise, have all but ignored His inner glory in their souls.

Paramhansa Yogananda once remarked, “Whenever I hear the expression ‘Praise the Lord!’ I get the mental impression of God as a rich, pampered lady wanting people’s flattery!” God is above all pleased with humility, from which come restfulness of heart and expanded soul-identity. He never imposes on our free will, however. Christianity, early in its history, forsook the practice of inner communion, and concentrated instead on ceremonial pomp. Prelates gazed down with priestly self-importance on the bowed heads of their flocks, and everyone thought in terms of how their numbers might be increased. The divine law has no favorites. As Paramhansa Yogananda said, those who seek honor in the eyes of men shall receive dishonor. The relative unimportance of the priestly profession today is due not only to the materialism of this age, but to the self-importance of priests in former centuries.

Paramhansa Yogananda once visited a famous church in America. Gazing around him, he marveled that so much artistry had been deemed necessary for worshiping God. All at once, he heard the divine inner voice saying, “Would you rather have all this, and a congregation of thousands, but without Me? Or . . .” (he was shown a vision of himself seated on the ground under a tree, a handful of disciples gathered around him) “. . . would you rather have this, with Me?”

“Lord,” he replied fervently, “I want Thee alone!” He often said to people, “I prefer a soul to a crowd, though I love crowds of souls!” By “souls” he meant lovers of God.

India, too, is not blind to the attractions of pomp. The abbots (called mahamandaleshwars) of great monasteries move in grand procession on the backs of elephants, surrounded by all the panoply of maharajas. Perhaps they justify this display in their own minds as a proclamation that God is the mightiest of all monarchs. Their motivation, however, seems no different from that of their priestly counterparts in the West.

It should be added that such ceremonial pomp is not the norm for India. The author had occasion in 1959 to meet the hereditary leader of millions of Hindus in South India. This man was simply garbed, seated unostentatiously on the ground beneath a palm tree. There he received rich and poor alike with equal kindness, and displayed concern for the wellbeing of them all. Although bound by his position to uphold the authority of the scriptures, his way of doing so was fresh, sometimes gently humorous, and always wise. Never pedantic, he demonstrated a complete lack of pretension.[6]

Architecturally, the spirit of India has been captured beautifully in a little shrine on a hilltop above the town of Ranchi. Its four sides are open to the panorama below; its roof is crowned with the simple Sanskrit character, AUM. The over-all impression is one of unassuming simplicity.

Many times in the history of religion has God appeared in response to the loving call of His devotees. In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna states:

“Unborn, changeless, Lord of Creation and controller of My cosmic nature though I am, yet on entering Nature I am dressed in the cosmic garment of My own maya [delusion].

“O Bharata, whenever virtue declines and vice predominates, I incarnate on earth. Taking visible form, I come to destroy evil and re-establish virtue.”

This passage speaks of the mystery of divine incarnation as a repeated event in history. In Christian theology, Christ’s incarnation is considered unique; scholars therefore have given little energy to pondering how the event might have taken place; for them, it suffices that it was miraculous. In Hinduism, however, because the teaching is that God incarnates repeatedly, greater interest has been shown in the actual process. Even so, most Hindus confuse Krishna’s use of the personal pronoun, here, with his human personality, which they regard as an incarnation of God in the form of Vishnu. Vishnu, in his turn, is thought of as a personalized aspect of God. Only at the pinnacle of Hindu wisdom have great masters explained the process more exactly.

A divine incarnation, they say, is a manifestation of infinity. It is personal only in the sense that human beings receive personal benefits from it, and not because God is a person.

It may seem incredible that the Infinite Spirit should be concerned with mere human needs. Nevertheless, that Spirit—mostly through AUM, the Divine Mother aspect of God—has shown tender concern for mankind many times, and in many ways. The infinite Creator of countless galaxies is also the loving Father/Mother of each one of us. Moreover, He acts through us in His cosmic dream, and is therefore, in this sense, personal also. God answers every sincere prayer. Jesus Christ expressed God’s concern for us in his well-known saying, “The very hairs of your head are all numbered.” (Matthew 10:30) Indeed, omnipresence implies infinitesimal smallness as much as infinite immensity.

God has revealed Himself to saints in vision throughout history, in every religion. He has come to them as Father, Mother, Friend, Beloved—even, as we read in the account of Moses, as a burning bush. St. Jean Vianney, the humble parish priest of Ars, France, once declared, “If you only knew how much God loves you, you would die of joy!”

God has manifested Himself phenomenally on earth also, without actually taking physical birth. He has appeared to sincere devotees during moments of danger, when, unexpectedly, Someone came who steered them in the right direction. Seconds later, when they turned to express their thanks, their benefactor was nowhere to be found. Such stories as these may be dismissed as pious myths, but the author has heard accounts like them from people whose truthfulness was, in his opinion, beyond question.

Physical manifestations of this sort are transitory, however. The Lord would not controvert His law, which He Himself established. Nor would He bypass normal channels to incarnate specially in extra-legal perfection.

Visions, like all divine experiences, are means that He uses to inspire sincere devotees. No vision, however—and, by extension, no divine incarnation—is meant to limit people’s devotion to that one form alone.

God already “incarnated,” in a more impersonal sense, in the manifestation of His creation. He is manifested most openly of all in those saints who have realized Him. Sometimes a great master is born, in accordance with the divine will, who has already won soul-release from delusion in former incarnations.

The doctrine of reincarnation is not addressed in either Jewish or Christian theology. Both the Old and New Testaments teach it, however. Some of the references are obscure out of respect for those who were not ready for it. Nowadays, people have become more or less accustomed to hearing about it, and many accept it as, in the words of Hume, “the only explanation to which philosophy can hearken.” An in-depth investigation of the doctrine at this point would divert us from our theme. Nevertheless, the biblical passages are so pertinent that a few examples, at least, must be included here. The following references should suffice for now.

In Matthew 17:12–13, Jesus says, “Elias is come already, and they knew him not. . . . Then the disciples understood that he spake unto them of John the Baptist.” It had been prophesied that Elijah (Elias, in Greek) would come again. Christ’s comment here is unequivocal.

Again, in Matthew 11:13–14, Jesus says, “For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John [the Baptist]. And if ye will receive it, this is Elias [Elijah], which was for to come.” These words, “If ye will receive it,” suggest that the concept of reincarnation was, for the people at that time, controversial.

In Genesis 9:6 we read, “Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.” Paramhansa Yogananda pointed out that objective circumstances, and the “thwarting cross-currents of ego” as he called them, may prevent the law from being fulfilled immediately. It is not uncommon, in fact, for the boomerang effect of a sin to be activated in another lifetime. Assassins, for example, sometimes die of natural causes, and may seem thereby to have cheated the law. St. Paul, however, said, “Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” (Galatians 6:7) The working of karmic law may be observed in deaths that, according to human understanding, have seemed unjust. Life is not unfair. The law, indeed, is infallible. The justice it exacts, however, takes no account of human expectations. It has nothing to prove. It simply is.

Again, in Job 1:21, we read, “Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither.” Job could not have “returned naked” to the womb, except by becoming once more an embryo in the womb of his next mother.

Jesus, in the Book of Revelation, is quoted as saying, “To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne.” (Revelation 3:21)

Divine incarnations like Jesus are born in the full realization of God. Such masters, by their words, and by their magnetically uplifting influence, bring a “special dispensation” to mankind: the power of divine love, which alleviates the heavier exactions of karmic law. To sincere disciples of those great masters comes the grace of redemption.

No wave can express the vast ocean in its entirety. No human being, similarly—not even a divine incarnation—can define the totality of God. Were God Himself to incarnate directly, that manifestation would of necessity be limited also. Finitude can never define infinity.

Moreover, according to the divine plan our own consciousness must be expanded to infinity. Were the Supreme Spirit to materialize on earth and declare, “I am God!” it would suggest—amusingly—that God had stepped in just when a few of His children had attained perfection and were able to serve others in a divine way—when they were able, that is to say, to “come in His name”—and announced: “I liked it when you all were bungling everything, but now that some of you are wise I think it’s time I took control.”

God acts through conscious instruments. This is true even in the case of each one of us. “God helps those who help themselves.” It is God’s will that we develop by our own effort, but with His help, and in attunement with His will.

A simple story tells it all. A certain Irish priest visited a farmer and was given a tour of his farm. When the tour ended, the priest exclaimed, “What a grand farm you and God have created here!” The farmer, pleased with this encomium, but not so happy at the thought of sharing the credit with anyone else, replied, “Father, you may be right, but you should hae seen this place when God had it all to His self!”

Without God, man can do nothing. Without God, we could not even breathe. God acts through us, not around us, to accomplish whatever we ourselves want to accomplish. If we do a job badly, it is because we have not attuned ourselves sensitively enough yet to His energy and wisdom. Nevertheless, whether consciously or unconsciously, we live by God’s power all the time.

Is it not, indeed, more inspiring to think that salvation can come to us through one who, after prolonged effort, has achieved it himself? Is it not in the perfect fitness of things for us to learn from one who has walked the path himself and experienced its difficulties personally? one who, as a result of his own experience, is familiar with the pitfalls and shortcuts on the journey? What inspiration for our own striving would there be if guidance came to us from some Divine Manifestation, automatically omniscient and omnipotent, and bearing no laurels of a hard-won victory? Such a divine “Superman” would give us little incentive to work for our own redemption. Instead, more likely, we would depend on Him to do all the work for us.

If people’s devotion were drawn to such a manifestation outwardly, they would not be inspired to seek God where alone He can be realized: in the Self. This was the truth Jesus emphasized in saying, “The kingdom of God is within you.” All the scriptures proclaim the same truth. God must be sought first of all within, and only secondarily in Nature, in places of worship, and on pilgrimages. Even service to our fellowman is not an act of devotion, unless it is rendered with love for God. Lacking this attitude, the good that we accomplish cannot but be limited, for it will lack true spiritual power.

The author had a little set-to on this point several years ago with a Dean of the Church of England. The two of them were on a panel of speakers. The Dean, who spoke first, urged the members of the audience to dedicate themselves to social upliftment. In what can best be described as a diatribe he shouted angrily, “You’ve got to serve the poor! the prostitutes! the destitute!” Perhaps his intention was to persuade people that the church is still relevant in this age of heightened social awareness. The author’s turn to speak came next. He surprised even himself—for normally he tries to support his fellow speakers—in saying, “Follow your own divine guidance. If in fact you feel that God wants you to render social service, then do so by all means, and with your whole heart. But don’t do it merely because someone tells you to. Pick up leaves in the park if that is what you feel God wants of you. The Bhagavad Gita tells us it is better to fail in the performance of one’s own duty than to succeed in the performance of someone else’s.” The author would have liked to add, but didn’t: Religion lays a heavy burden of guilt on people when it tries to order their behavior, instead of encouraging them to seek their own guidance from God.[7]

Devotees—it remains to be said also, in the Dean’s favor—should strive to express whatever degree of spiritual understanding they have achieved so far. Perhaps the Dean was being true to his own “inner understanding,” though it is also possible that the opinion he expressed was simply an “in” thing to say.

Do your best, above all, to follow God’s will. It is important to understand that perfection is not something that can ever be achieved outwardly. The most ideal Eden will always harbor the serpent of potential suffering. In serving others, then, think of them as altars of the divine. And try to serve them as a channel, yourself, of divine inspiration.

Above all, heed God’s call within. Give to Him always, not to His creation, your first love.

Christians who truly love Jesus, and Hindus who truly love Rama, Krishna, or some other divine incarnation, should realize that they honor those incarnations most truly who seek to realize the Christ consciousness in themselves. For Christ resides there eternally, in their own hearts.

[1]John 14:9.

[2]The writer recalls to mind, in this context, a brother disciple of his who was reprimanded on this point by Paramhansa Yogananda. The disciple had fairly papered his room with photographs he’d taken of the guru. One day, Yogananda said to him, “Why do you keep taking pictures of this body? Get to know me in meditation, if you want to know who I really am.”

[3]I Thessalonians 5:2.

[4]Matthew 23:39.

[5]It is astonishing, in view of their belief in a divine destiny, how many Jews today declare themselves to be atheists.

[6]An example of the simplicity with which this man, the Shankaracharya of Kanchipuram, expressed himself was an answer he gave to the question, “How long does it take to escape delusion?” He replied, “That depends on how much one still has to overcome! When a nail protrudes from a board, you can’t say how much of it is still left buried in the wood. All you know is that the way to get it out is to keep pulling at it. If you live earnestly for God, He will free you in His time from delusion’s bondage.”

[7]Frank Laubach, the great Christian missionary, once campaigned in America to persuade more ministers of religion simply even to mention God in their sermons!