Sunday Service Reading #7

Grace means the power to rise, spiritually. Truth means the experience of divine realities, not the application in the outer world of that inner experience.

Divine love is the soul's experience of oneness with God. Kindness is the human manifestation of that love. Grace is deeper than mere kindness.

Wisdom is a divine experience. Justice to all is a human law, though divinely inspired. It follows as a consequence of the experience of wisdom. Truth goes deeper than mere justice.

While following the law, we should strive always to trace it back to its origins in the vision of God. Therefore Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita urges the devotee not to be satisfied with spiritual precepts alone, but to go beyond them to the direct, inner experience of truth. In the eighteenth Chapter of that great Scripture he says:

Nay! but once more
Take My last word, My utmost meaning have!
Precious thou art to Me; right well beloved!
Listen! I tell thee for thy comfort this.
Give Me thy heart! adore Me! serve Me! cling
In faith and love and reverence to Me!
So shalt thou come to Me! I promise true,
For thou art sweet to Me!

And let go those rites and writ duties! Fly to me alone!
Make Me thy single refuge! I will free
Thy soul from all its sins! Be of good cheer!

VIDEO of Asha's Service on this subject from 2-14-10

MP3 for Download and online listening of Asha's Service on this subject from 2-14-10

VIDEO of Maria Warner's Service on the Subject from 2-15-09

MP3 for Download or online listening of Maria Warner's Service on the Subject from 2-15-09

VIDEO of Asha's Service on this subject from 2-15-09

MP3 for Download and online listening of Asha's Service on this subject from 2-15-09

MP3 for Download and online listening of Peter Van Houten's Service on this subject from 2-17-08

MP3 for Download and online listening of Savatri's Service on this subject from 2-18-07

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

#6: The Law is Perfected in Love
("God Is Above the Law" in the original book)

Bible

"The Law Is Perfected in Love"

At the time when God gave the law to Moses, the need was for the tribes of Israel, recently liberated from four centuries of slavery in Egypt, to be molded into a single, homogeneous nation. Basically, the Ten Commandments, as well as the six hundred other, lesser, laws, were moral guidelines for a God-fearing people. It was as if God had said to them through Moses, "You have chosen, as a nation, to live according to My ways. I now give you rules by which you as a nation can be pleasing to Me."

Some of the Ten Commandments can be interpreted mystically as well. For example, the deeper meaning of, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," is, "Direct all your desires and devotion toward Me alone" — an offering possible only in deep inner communion with the Lord. God's intention, however, was clearly the religious discipline of a whole people — only a few of whom could have been mystically inclined.

In the normal course of spiritual evolution, outward religious observances precede inward, mystical aspiration. Man must learn first to fear God, and obey Him. Only gradually, as he learns to live for God, does he come to love Him.

The Jews, having dedicated themselves in faith to the Lord, initiated their spiritual development as a people. Their first step, following this divine choice, was to purify themselves, by observing the set of disciplinary rules that Moses gave them. Gradually, by observance of the law, they refined their attunement to God's will.

Jesus Christ was sent to earth by God when there were sufficient numbers ready for the next step on the journey to attract a new dispensation. It was the spiritual hunger of the Jewish people that attracted this divine response. Jesus was sent to instruct his countrymen in the ways of love.

Referring to the spiritual unpreparedness of the Jews of Moses' times, Jesus himself once told his orthodox critics (Mark 10:5), "For the hardness of your heart [Moses] wrote this precept."

Jesus came also to teach the Jewish people the true meaning of liberation — that is to say, freedom not from outward slavery, such as they had known in Egypt, but from the inward bondage of delusion, from material desires and attachments, and from the arrogant demands of a self-affirming ego.

Out of the myriad prayers of Judaism, Jesus gave as his first commandment this one: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength." (Mark 12:30) His second commandment was "like unto it": "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."

It was not Jesus' intention to break away from Jewish tradition. As he said in Matthew 5:17, "Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill." It was his stated purpose not to found a new religion, but to add to the old one this refinement of love, and, through love, of living consciously in God's grace.

Love, according to divine law itself, is above any law. Jesus' teaching was not to those whose devotion was centered in the law. It was to those who were spiritually awakened enough to want a personal relationship with God, as their divine Father.

The evolutionary development from Judaism to what ended up becoming Christianity has continued to the present day. The emphasis of Christians on a more personal relationship with God has developed over centuries into a hunger not only for outward, but for inward, direct communion with the Lord.

Thus it occurred by God's grace in our time that Paramhansa Yogananda was sent to the West, to teach the secrets of meditation and inner communion.

Those who recognize the inescapability of divine law should seek always to live by it. Those, again, who have learned to live by the law should seek its fulfillment in divine grace, love, and wisdom.

And those, finally, who believe deeply in God's grace should seek to receive it in themselves as a conscious experience. If they believe deeply in His love, they should seek direct communion with that love, in prayer and meditation. And if they believe in His truth and wisdom, they should seek themselves always to grow in wisdom and divine perception.

Bhagavad Gita

"Divine Love: The End of All Observances"

Here Krishna speaks to Arjuna of a path higher than that of formal religious observances; higher than that of fasting, rituals, good deeds, and charitable offerings. The path referred to is that of one-pointed devotion to the Lord.

In no way is Krishna belittling those spiritual aspirants who strive valiantly to adhere to the commandments of the law. A path, however, should not be confused with its goal.

The ultimate goal of all religion is union with God. The commandments of Scripture provide rules of behavior for people in various walks of life, simply that they may grow from ego-attachment toward final awakening in the Lord.

By abiding by such a commandment as harmlessness ("Thou shalt not kill," in the Mosaic law), one comes gradually to feel his oneness with all life.

By following the commandment of non-covetousness ("Thou shalt not steal," and, "Thou shalt not covet," in the Mosaic law), one gradually reaches a state of centeredness, of rest in himself. From such inward peace springs the inclination to probe the inner, spiritual depths.

By adhering to truthfulness ("Thou shalt not bear false witness," in Moses' law), one develops the discernment to penetrate through clouds of delusion, and to understand the deeper nature of things.

No one would advise a child to bypass arithmetic and pass straight on to the study of higher mathematics. Nevertheless, once he masters higher mathematics he may lose some of his familiarity with the simple rules of arithmetic.

There is a story of the two famous scientists, Einstein and Eddington. They were discussing some abstruse point of physics, when they hit an arithmetical snag. Finding themselves in difficulty, they called in an accountant to help them!

On the spiritual path as well, elaborate attention to the intricacies of outward rule and ritual is an aid only for beginners. It serves to keep their minds engaged in God-reminding activities, and thereby diverted from ego-active pursuits.

Too much fussy attention to detail, however, becomes a distraction, as one develops the ability to live ever more constantly by inner, divine inspiration.

To one living in ecstatic inner communion with God, the lesser rules of spirituality — the deeper purpose of which is only to guide devotees toward such communion — may be a hindrance instead of a help. It isn't that at this high spiritual level one can steal, lie, and harm people with impunity. Rather, the more centered one is in God, the more his actions are in natural harmony with God's law. He needs no special instructions or formal observances to guide him toward mental alignment with that law.

The important thing to understand here is that there is a higher purpose to religious observances. The commandments are not rules to follow merely to please God. Rather, they were given to man to help refine human nature, thereby to make it a fit vehicle for the manifestation of soul-consciousness. Outward observances are meant to develop, and not to obstruct, the ability to love God and to live in true, heart-felt charity toward one's neighbor.

That is why Jesus said, "The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath." (Mark 2:27) The souls he had come to help were ready for this higher teaching of divine love and charity. Some of them, indeed, were ready also for the highest teaching — that of inner communion, directed toward ultimate union with the Lord. To these true disciples he spoke individually, and in depth. Others he taught in parables, only hinting at higher teachings with the oft-repeated words, "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear."

Sri Krishna also followed the above passage in the Bhagavad Gita with a warning not to share this highest teaching — the call to divine love as the straightest path to God — except with those devotees who would truly understand it, and would not use it as an excuse to ignore the commandments of God's law.

Moses taught primarily through the law. Yet Moses, too, was a true master. The higher teachings can be seen — as it were, hidden — in his life, and in the law he gave.

Jesus taught the higher divine truths more openly, because in his day people were more generally ready to receive them.

In our age, Paramhansa Yogananda no longer needed to have recourse to parables and veiled statements. His great contribution to the history of religion, made possible by people's increased hunger for spiritual understanding, was to present long-hidden truths so simply that virtually anyone could accept them, and understand clearly — if only with their intellects — to what end the spiritual path is directed.

Longest Reading from the Book
The Promise of Immortality

#5 The Law is Perfected in Love
("Divine Grace Vs. Divine Law" in the original book)

At the time when God gave the law to Moses, the need was for the tribes of Israel, recently liberated from four centuries of slavery in Egypt, to be molded into a single, homogeneous nation. Basically, the Ten Commandments and the six hundred more general laws were moral guidelines for a God-fearing people. It was as if God had said to them through Moses, “You, as a nation, have chosen to live according to My ways. I now give you rules by which you can be pleasing to Me.”

Some of the laws and Commandments can be interpreted more inwardly also. For example, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me” is an injunction not only against paganism, but against worldly attachments and desires. These, indeed, are mankind’s real idols, regardless of any images people place on their altars. As Jesus said, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” (Matthew 6:21) God was telling the Jews, “Give your love to Me alone.” Perfect self-offering is possible only in deep communion with the Lord.

In our spiritual evolution, outward observances normally precede inward ones. A person first learns to fear and obey God. Only gradually does he come to love Him.

The Jews took the step, which was an unusual one for those times, of accepting God, not mammon, as their Lord. They resolved to live for Him faithfully and to abide by His law. Thus, Moses gave them a set of disciplinary rules to help them to live in the ways of “righteousness.” They were shown how, in living by them, to attune themselves to the divine will.

The history of the many failures of the Jewish people to live by that will, and of their repeated mutinies against it, is not so much a story of faithlessness as of a whole people struggling to emerge from the widespread spiritual ignorance of their times. They were not always successful in that effort. Yet they were a stubborn people: Anyone with strong spiritual inclinations has to be, for it takes will power to dedicate oneself to high principles and to God. Again and again the Jews, unfortunately for them, refused to listen to the prophets sent to them by God in answer to their own plea. It was this tendency in them that Jesus lamented when he cried, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which kills the prophets, and stones them that are sent unto thee; how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!”

He added, “Behold, your house is left unto you desolate: and verily I say unto you, Ye shall not see me, until the time come when ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.” (Luke 13:34,35) He was speaking here not as Jesus, the individual, but as Christ, the omnipresent reflection of God in the universe.

The most important step on the spiritual path is to make oneself receptive to divine guidance. It is already a great and noble beginning to decide to live by high principles; in this decision the Jews were far ahead of most peoples of their time. They took the next step also, of recognizing that living for God is the highest principle. They chose God. For this reason, as the Bible states, God chose them. The age in which they lived, however, was spiritually unaware. The Jewish national character was egoically defiant. Their next step would have been to welcome practical spiritual guidance—not only through written laws, but through enlightened sages who themselves were in tune with God’s will. For this step the Jews, as a people, were not ready.

Their reluctance is understandable. It is always more pleasant to have one’s wishes and opinions mirrored back to one, however indirectly. People with a religious bent often seek such a mirror in scripture, which they can explain according to their own convenience. (It cannot answer back!) When the ground seems safe, they may also seek the counsel of priests or pastors, who, like most people, tend to endorse the delusions of their times. Even to seek guidance from the lives of saints may be more convenient after they’ve been safely dead for some years. Still-living saints, in this respect, are likely to mirror back to people the things they’d rather not see. Paramhansa Yogananda in Autobiography of a Yogi quoted a great yogi as saying, “Worldly people do not like the candor which shatters their delusions. Saints are not only rare but disconcerting. Even in scripture, they are often found embarrassing!”

Perhaps the mission of Jesus was only to the Jews, and not to other peoples as well, for to the woman of Samaria he said, “Salvation is of the Jews.” (John 4:22) More probably, however, those words were spoken to test her, for shortly thereafter she, and many others from her city, accepted Jesus as the Messiah. Prophecy had made it clear, however, and so did unfolding circumstances, that Jesus Christ’s mission would not be fulfilled, as it might have been, in the spiritual molding of his people. Instead, it had to be to the whole world.

The Jewish people had arrived at a karmic crossroads. Soon they would be dispersed as a nation. They might have been spared that fate, had they turned within spiritually as Jesus tried to get them to do. The challenge they faced was to waken to God’s love, and not merely to reaffirm their status as a nation. Jesus brought them what their souls needed, not what their egos wanted. He had come to help them understand that their original “contract” with God was primarily inward. Alas, they rejected his message. Had they heeded him; had they even repented and followed him after the Crucifixion; their diaspora, if still it needed to happen, could have become a generous and loving mission to the world instead of bringing them the suffering which made them cry annually for centuries, “Next year: Jerusalem!”

Instead, the divine commission had to go to others. Unfortunately, other peoples were even less prepared for Christ’s teaching of divine love. But at least they didn’t obstruct his mission with the prideful thought, “This is ancient teaching to us: We’ve known it for centuries!”

Referring to the Jews’ need for continuing spiritual refinement, Jesus once answered his critics, “For the hardness of your heart [Moses] wrote this precept.” (Mark 10:5)

Jesus came to teach the Jewish people the true meaning of freedom: not liberation from outer slavery such as they’d endured in Egypt and in Babylon, and were enduring to a lesser degree under Roman rule, but freedom from the tyranny of delusion: from material desires and attachments, from the demands of an arrogant and self-affirming ego.

Of the numerous laws of Judaism, two were, Jesus said, of paramount importance: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength,” and, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,” (Mark 12:30–31) the second being, he said, “like unto” the first.

Several times during his mission he made it clear that it was not his purpose to break with Jewish tradition. We have already seen how he told people, in Matthew 5:17, “Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill.” He hadn’t come to establish a new religion, but only to add to the old one the refinement of love, to help the Jewish people to live more consciously in God’s grace.

Love supports the law. Yet love also is above the law, and is the ultimate purpose of the law. Jesus’ teaching was not for people who clung to the ancient strictures too tenaciously,[1] but for those who understood the need for grace, and for an inward perception of truth.

The line of development from Judaism to Christianity was not from divine law to devotional love. That would have been the fulfillment of its higher destiny. Unfortunately, God’s light cannot reach human consciousness directly, for it must penetrate the dark fog of human delusion. Not uncommonly, even the disciples of a great master alter his essential teachings—sometimes even drastically so. Their action is not deliberate; rather, it is an expression of their very devotion to him. His reality as a person is, for most of them, greater than his teachings. Thus, the disciples of a master whose expression was the sweetness of God’s love may, out of loyalty to him, seek to justify his teachings in the eyes of the world by offering scholarly support for them; they end up attracting intellectuals, but not devotees, to his teachings. And the disciples of a master who taught the oneness of all religions may seize upon the very freshness of this teaching as proof that he was unique—indeed, superior to other masters!

Thus, the development of the Judeo-Christian tradition passed from Mosaic law to form-bound definitions that enclosed Christ’s teachings in organizational restrictions and dogmatic definitions.

During the early years of Christianity, the importance of a personal relationship with God was widely recognized. This importance was particularly emphasized by the Gnostics, a school of early Christians who were eventually suppressed by those Christians who wanted to establish a formal religion. To church-minded Christians, Jesus Christ would never become a major influence in the world if his message was given too mystical a slant. His promise of salvation to all men would, in that case, remain unfulfilled. They, themselves Westerners, were probably more comfortable with the outward aspects of his message. The Greco-Roman approach to life was radically different from the more-or-less unsystematic teachings of Jesus Christ. “Church Christians” felt that those teachings needed a formal structure, under strict administrative control. Such was the Roman way.

The suppression of the Gnostics constituted, however, a major loss for Christianity. Granted, their more mystical school of thought had its own shortcomings. The self-expression it emphasized was not always rooted in wisdom. A few Gnostics also developed a certain proud aloofness, not unlike those ego-affirming yoga students mentioned in the last chapter. Errors crept into their teachings, including the reasonable, but mistaken, belief that Jesus Christ, being the Son of God, could not possibly have suffered on the cross.

The Gnostics’ commitment to an inner experience of the truth was no guarantee of success in achieving that experience. When Gnosticism was suppressed, however, and fixed doctrines were formulated, Christian leadership came wholly under the church dignitaries, who sought to make Christ’s teachings uniform in order to strengthen the authority of the church. It was best, they felt, to under-emphasize those aspects of Christ’s teachings which might encourage people to excessive inwardness in their devotion, for that would mean too much independence of churchly control.

Thus, “grace and truth” came to be interpreted outwardly. Truth was explained no longer in terms of God-realization, but rather of carefully defined dogmas. Grace no longer meant the actual experience of divine power, but salvation after death for church members in good standing. “Good standing,” moreover, came to be understood as “good, better, and best” standing, depending on how much money and worldly power came with the standing. For once a religious organization embarks on a course of placing its members under the control of a central authority, its natural next step is to want increased wealth and worldly power for the church. Such, simply, is human nature.

It is more than likely that the Church, in discrediting the Gnostics, exaggerated their fallacies, and passed lightly over their virtues. Christ’s emphasis on inner communion could only have been an embarrassment to it, for it wanted large congregations. That goal made it necessary to emphasize the outer symbols of truth, and to minimize the inner experience of God.

The Jews’ rejection of Jesus pushed his followers out into a world where institutionalism had already been developed to a fine art. Church leaders considered it necessary to adapt his message to this alien culture—for most of them, the only culture they knew.

The Jews were not spiritually ready to receive Christ. And the Greco-Roman world was not ready for the “grace and truth” of inner communion, which was Christ’s deeper message. Thus, as his mission developed, a better name for it might have been “Churchianity,” not Christianity,

Fortunately, those twin principles, “grace and truth,” were not lost. Though increasingly defined in terms that were supportive of the church, they still touched the hearts of individuals who accepted the commandment of Jesus to love God with all one’s heart, soul, mind, and strength. Jesus Christ remained, for them, not only Someone to be addressed with formal hyperbole during church services, but their own divine Friend, with whom they could commune in a relationship of love. Jesus Christ himself, not church dogma, has been from the start the living essence of the Christian religion.

From time to time in the history of Christianity, there have appeared true men and women of God who, experiencing Christ’s actual presence, have infused the Christian religion with renewed faith. Without them, the churches would long ago have come to resemble elegant mausoleums. It also happened, however, unfortunately, that those saints were never given the freedom to join hands with one another over the centuries, and thus to create a coherent spiritual tradition. Always, they had to give primary recognition to the authority of the Church, which insisted that public revelation ended with Jesus Christ and the apostles. Anything experienced since then, it decreed, falls into the category of private revelation. Thus, no tradition ever developed comparable to the ancient yoga tradition in India.

During the first thousand years of Christianity, inner communion was more widely recognized than it has been ever since. The struggle, however, between the church’s somewhat grudging recognition of inner communion, and its active encouragement of outer worship, has always been weighted in favor of outer worship. St. Benedict, who lived in the Sixth Century and was a gifted mystic as well as a good organizer, supported the Church by trying to give an outward structure to spiritual attitudes. A hermit himself for some years, and sought out by people from far and near, St. Benedict had the Western quality of systemizing what he believed in. Thus, when others asked to be allowed to join him in his life of prayer, he organized them into a monastery instead of letting them wander about on their own (as monks do even now in India). Thus, the Benedictine Rule brought those who were mystically inclined also under the control of the Church. His Rule is followed even today by most Christian monastic orders, though certain of its quainter aspects have been modified. (It is no longer the practice, for example, for bread to descend at mealtimes by means of a rope and pulley, to remind all that their sustenance comes from God!) Retirement to remote places for a life of contemplation received progressively less encouragement; gradually, society ceased to support the hermitic life.

During the second thousand years of Christianity, Christ’s message was increasingly defined outwardly. Less and less attention was given, even in monasteries, to the soul’s inner relationship with God, and more and more to outer discipline and communal conformity.

The argument in favor of organized religion is, in its own context, valid. For one thing, the Church at least succeeded in keeping the barbarians at bay. It also strengthened the faithful. Its benefits, in fact, were many, as will be seen later on in this chapter. The Church did not in itself, however, produce saints. This, God alone can do. Saints developed within Christianity—often not so much because of the church as in spite of it. Still, the Catholic Church has honored its saints by canonizing them. The Protestants, on the other hand, have not so much persecuted them as ignored them. In fact, a number of Protestant sects officially insist that every Christian is a saint, by virtue of his having accepted Jesus Christ as his Savior. Thus, somewhat through the Roman Catholics, and more so through the Protestants, an important truth has become almost forgotten: that the saints in every religion are its true custodians. Spiritually speaking, the effect of this vanished understanding has been enormous. The saints in fact deserve our respect, even our veneration—not for themselves, but because in them we behold our own highest potential. When that respect is absent, religion loses its vitality, and divine aspiration is replaced by reasonable compromise and pious indifference.

In fascinating contrast to Western efforts to institutionalize religion stands the freedom of religious expression in India. God-communion is not viewed there as something to be controlled outwardly. As Jesus himself put it, in reference to the Spirit, “The wind blows where it wills.” (John 3:8) The contrast between the typical attitudes of East and West was revealed in a question an American visitor put to a saint in India, and in the answer he received. The American asked what might be done to ensure the safety of our planet. The saint replied, “He who created this world, don’t you think He knows how to take care of it?”

In India, institutional religious control is looked upon with a certain disfavor, and is virtually non-existent. Admittedly, the Indian temperament tends somewhat toward disorganization anyway. In religious matters, however, this tendency has permitted spiritual genius to flourish. Toleration for eccentricity has prevented the social sanctioning of mediocrity. If a teacher in India contradicts the scriptures, there exists no formal body with the authority to silence him. Consequently, he faces no threat of official excommunication, anathema, or imprisonment. He may be confronted on the issue informally, but his free will, if not his judgment, is generally respected. For the feeling is that error, like a tree growing in barren soil, produces poor fruit anyway. Truth, on the other hand, like a fruit-laden tree, gives sustenance to many and is self-propagating. Truth ultimately overwhelms delusion, as the Christians of Alexandria discovered when they heard St. Anthony declare, “I have seen him!”

Of course, no country has a monopoly on fanaticism, emotion, or mob violence. “Ignorance, East and West,” Paramhansa Yogananda used to say, “is fifty-fifty.” If persecution is necessary to the achievement of sainthood, India is not wanting in this important ingredient. Emotions, however, like waves, constantly rise and fall. What is blessedly lacking in India is the arctic cold of religious institutionalism, which in effect freezes the waves of understanding with formal, enforceable decrees. Also lacking is the mistaken belief that such control is even desirable.

An attitude of universal tolerance, typically Indian, is evident elsewhere also. It was expressed by Rabbi Gamaliel in The Acts of the Apostles, to other rabbis who were urging that the upstart Christian sect be persecuted. “Leave them alone,” he advised, “for if this counsel or this work is of men, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow it, and might even be found in opposition to God!” (Acts 5:38,39)

There is a further point worth considering here, one rarely taken into account by church officials, whose training is in administrative skills. The tendency of religious officialdom is to look rather condescendingly on people whose temperament is devotional, especially if those people don’t show proper interest in stern institutional efficiency. The humble devotee seems, to most administrators, to have his “head in the clouds.” Priding themselves on their worldly wisdom, sober “defenders of the faith” seldom realize the extent to which superconscious experience clarifies a person’s understanding and his reasoning powers. As Swami Sri Yukteswar, Yogananda’s guru, put it, “Divine perceptions are not incapacitating!” Saints, when forced to engage in debate with theologians, prove themselves formidable opponents. Even illiterate saints have emerged victorious from doctrinal attacks by mere scholars.

The way of the saints is not argumentative. What they do is announce the truth calmly and clearly as they have experienced it. In verbal riposte they exhibit the keenest intelligence and, often, a delightful sense of humor. The saints, moreover—unlike their reason-addicted brethren—are in agreement with one another on basic spiritual issues.

Four points are strong arguments in favor of the Indian, over the Western, attitude toward religion. The first—and even Christian missionaries have remarked on this one—is the Indian’s extraordinary devotion to spiritual matters, and to God. Indians don’t need organizational encouragement to love God.

The second point is that, in India, sainthood is encouraged, not suppressed. Eccentricity is not viewed as a community problem, but is tolerated, sometimes approved, and sometimes even enjoyed.

The third point is that people in India have free access to living saints, and go to them often for guidance, counseling, and inspiration. No official body exists to delay their expressions of devotion until after the saints’ death.

The fourth point is that, in India, the saints are seen as the crowning glory of religion, and not as uncomfortable anomalies—worthy of admiration, perhaps, but just as likely to be shrugged off as “a bit extreme!” Radhakrishnan, the first vice president in India after its liberation from British rule, remarked to the author during a private meeting, “A nation is known by the men and women it looks up to as great.” In no nation are the saints so revered as in India.

Saint Teresa of Avila once lamented the harm done by spiritually inexperienced counsellors in their attempts to externalize the devotion of spiritual aspirants. The average priest thinks first of binding people to the Church. “You will have time enough for ecstasy in heaven,” is their caustic comment. “Meanwhile, be guided by the monastic rule or by clerical authorities.” Jesus, however, praised Mary’s silent inner absorption, and criticized Martha’s restless outwardness. Mary, he said, had “chosen the better part.”

Paramhansa Yogananda said, of his mission to the West, that it was twofold: “To bring back the original teachings of Jesus Christ, and the original yoga teachings of Krishna.” The West, today, is ready for practical guidance in meditation and inner communion. The cultural climate in our time has changed, partly in consequence of science’s insistence on tested knowledge over theoretical deduction. People are coming more and more to recognize their need for personal experience of God, and see this experience also as the very essence of Jesus Christ’s teachings.

Of the four gospels, St. John’s is the most inward in emphasis. Certain scholars have suggested that St. John was influenced by the Greek philosophers. With that suggestion, however, they reveal their ignorance of the spirit of discipleship. John was the “beloved of Jesus”; in other words, he was his closest and most highly advanced disciple. It is inconceivable that he would have sought support elsewhere for his most fundamental exposition of his master’s teachings. Would someone with access to a powerful telescope seek corroboration from a spyglass? St. John described Christ in the first chapter of his gospel in terms of infinite truth. Those statements were not philosophical abstractions. They could only have been given to John by Jesus himself.

The statement, then (quoting John the Baptist), “The law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ,” must have had Jesus’ endorsement also. Its meaning was too deep for anyone else to make that statement without Christ’s approval.

The Gnostics were closer, in this sense, to the spirit of Christ’s teachings than the churches have ever been. For they emphasized inner grace and truth, not outer law and authority. The Gnostic teachings were, in fact, more Eastern than Western in their orientation. The church was a Western imposition on the teachings of Jesus. Jesus, too, in the context of his day, lived in the East.

Things have not changed to such an extent that Western religion no longer needs organization. Paramhansa Yogananda himself founded a religious institution in America, and considered it necessary to his mission. For there exists in America, and in the West more generally, an insufficiency of respect for spiritual authority. This attitude is fed by the supposedly democratic attitude, “I’m just as good as anyone else!” It is also a sign of spiritual immaturity. Dilettantish presumption would have diluted the teachings beyond recognition, had there been no focal point from which to disseminate them.

Yogananda, however, never displayed much enthusiasm for spiritual institutionalism as such. Rather, he seemed to view religious organizations as necessary evils at best: a means of serving truth-seekers, but an obstacle to prolonged, deep meditation. No organization could, in his mind, replace the need for personal communion with God. As he once told his monk-disciples, “You have to individually make love to God.”

To the author he said once, with evident approval, “Those who leave the monastery will someday have groups of their own.” He encouraged the author himself to write books. His instruction, as it turned out, required the author’s separation from the organization. For his books could never have been written or published within the organization, the primary duty of which was the publishing of Yogananda’s books.

“Grace and truth came by Jesus Christ,” wrote St. John. The inner experience of both grace and truth is the aspect of Christ’s teaching that Paramhansa Yogananda was sent especially to teach again.

A woman disciple of Yogananda’s, to whom he’d given work to do outside the organization that was better suited to her nature, once helped to highlight the difference between organizational and spiritual obedience. She was questioning something he’d asked her to do. “Master,” she protested, “what will the organization say?”

“Are you following the organization?” he asked her. “Or are you following me?”

The ideal solution to the common, though seldom necessary, conflict between obedience to an organization and obedience to the inner voice of God is to recognize that each fills a need. Each, therefore, has its place.

Organization is like fertilizer for a tree. Genius itself, though always a mark of inner inspiration, could not flourish in a social vacuum. In Florence, Italy, for example, during the Renaissance, a cross-pollination of ideas produced Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and many more of history’s greatest artists. During the Seventeenth Century in France, the over-all social consciousness made possible the appearance of France’s great playwrights: Corneille, Racine, and Molière. During Germany’s great era of music, it took a musically appreciative society to produce Bach, Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, and other composers of genius. Rarely, if ever, has a work of genius flowered alone, like a solitary plant in the desert, unsupported by a society that could appreciate that genius. Even the desert fathers of the early Christian era could not have embraced their lonely calling, nor been successful in it, without the supportive consciousness of a large society.

For, too, society is an institution, even if it is not organized on managerial lines. India is, in this sense, an institution also. For lack of anything like India’s spiritual atmosphere in other countries, people with deep divine aspiration have not felt called to the hermit’s life. For lack of general artistic sensitivity, great art has never flourished in a mining camp. And because of the present world-need to strengthen family ties, monasticism everywhere has diminished both in numbers and in magnetism.

Where there is a lack of group understanding, but an over-ridingly powerful inspiration in a single individual, that individual has no choice, if he wants to help many, but to found an institution. Only from that base can his teaching spread. For this reason, Paramhansa Yogananda founded an organization in America. Otherwise, his teachings would have put down only shallow roots in this alien soil.

On the other hand, as Yogananda himself often said, “Seclusion is the price of greatness.” An organization can be a means of helping people to attain a certain spiritual understanding, but it cannot itself produce understanding. True understanding, whether spiritual, artistic, scientific, or political, comes from within. It cannot be taught: It can only be recognized.

Divine vision, as Yogananda put it, is “center everywhere, circumference nowhere.” Every atom is like a magnet, drawing other atoms to itself. Every ego is a magnetic vortex, drawing from Infinite Consciousness the thoughts and inspirations it wants, and with which it feels in tune. Organizations, too, draw power to themselves, and thereby strengthen their members. The vortex of a large religious organization can be powerful, exerting a magnetic influence even on people who are not personally in harmony with it. The thought that a large organization may project is: “There are so many who think as we do. Who are you, to dare to think differently?” This thought, stultifying to intellectual freedom, can nevertheless affect many minds.

We see in the power of group magnetism both the strength and the weakness of religious organizations. When the purpose they serve is good, they give that purpose a shape and focus. True inspiration, however, is not a matter of group endorsement. It is born in the consciousness of an individual. True guidance also, especially in spiritual matters, comes from within. Even a great master can only stimulate responses in his disciples. He cannot impose his insights on them. Merely to be the disciple of a master is no guarantee of spiritual attainment. As Jesus put it, “Many that are first shall be last, and last, first.”[2]

Thus, even within an organization it is important that the sincere devotee seek his guidance and inspiration principally from within. He should also do his best, in a spirit of willing cooperation, to obey outward guidance. Obedience, however, to someone who is not himself wise is beneficial only in the sense that it may keep one humble. No spiritual gains are made by walking in “lockstep togetherness” with other people. Blind obedience to someone who is spiritually ignorant means courting ignorance in oneself. God, it is said, will guide one through his superiors; if they are wrong, He will correct them. Well, miracles do happen, but to accept guidance that defies common sense can only, as Yogananda said, suppress, and therefore weaken, a person’s will power.

Is it, then, good to join a religious body? Why not? if one is in sympathy with its ideals. There is strength, even spiritually, in numbers. To suspend one’s own discrimination, however, in the name of that basic sympathy can impede spiritual development, not hasten it. The sentiment, “My country, right or wrong,” is admirable if a statement of loyalty, but contemptible if said only to justify obedience to its errors. There can be no spiritual gains in mental numbness. Life imposes on us the need for compromise, but even compromise must be conscious, deliberate, and willing. Otherwise, it is not compromise, but surrender. The “yes-man” is the bane of every institution, for while he gives support, he weakens its integrity.

A person may have, at a certain point, to decide to follow his own star—if not outwardly, then at least inwardly. If such should be the case, he must if possible avoid doing so in a spirit of rebellion. For it is always good to respect and appreciate what one has received from others. If a high school graduate goes on to study at a university, he ought not to damn his high school teachers because they gave him a lower education.

An organization is like fertilizer. This is not written with disrespect, for both are stimulants to growth. An organization can help people in their spiritual development. However, just as too much fertilizer can kill a plant, so an excessive emphasis on organization can paralyze inspiration. “Too many rules,” Yogananda used to say, “destroy the spirit.” Religious organizations, like vortices of energy, draw power to themselves. A group may therefore develop a sense of its own importance, and a certain indifference to the needs of people, even of those for whose benefit the organization was created. The danger for organizations, then, is institutional arrogance.

The danger for the lone individual, on the other hand, is personal arrogance. For pride easily develops when there is no one to offer correction and check one’s spiritual directions.

Group egotism can be combatted by an attitude of service. And personal egotism can be combatted by respecting other ways of seeking God, whether inside or outside of an organization. In both cases, it is necessary to keep alive the flame of generosity by service to others, and by loving them.

What benefits are there for the individual in these two alternative ways? The way of outer compliance offers relative safety from numerous dangers. Their power, moreover, ought never to be underestimated. The way of independence, on the other hand, exposes the lone “eccentric” to those dangers. The difference between joining an organization and walking alone is like the difference between a plant that grows in a hot-house and one that grows in Nature. The hot-house plant, protected from the weather’s inclemencies, may grow large and beautiful. It lacks the stamina, however, of a wild plant. The latter, on the other hand, exposed as it is to buffeting winds and extremes of heat and cold, may not survive.

Would you rather be self-reliant, like that wild plant? or live in the security of an institution? Look well before you make that decision. Yogananda used to say, for the benefit especially of beginners on the path, “Environment is stronger than will power.” It takes spiritual strength to stand alone. Look well, then, before you make your choice.

Not every spiritual seeker is able or free to join a monastery. Paramhansa Yogananda therefore proposed a timely alternative. He urged those who were spiritually minded, whether householders or single people, to form communities that they might seek God together. The author has been fortunate in creating several such places—six, so far, in America and in Europe. They are the first communities developed along the lines envisioned by Yogananda. Perhaps, in time, thousands of similar communities will spring up across the world, autonomous models for people who place God first in their lives.

Of his mission, Yogananda said, “The time for knowing God has come!” Again and again, as long as even a few souls long for enlightenment, great masters will appear to show them the way. Yogananda was sent to the West to teach the secrets of meditation and inner communion. Jesus Christ himself, Yogananda said, had appeared to Babaji, the first in Yogananda’s line of living gurus, and asked him to send someone to the West to teach again the deeper aspects of his revelation. Those teachings are clearly stated in the Bible, but have been overlooked under the pressure of religious organizational responsibilities.

The time has come, Yogananda said, to re-emphasize the importance of meditation—not by denying the benefits of organizational affiliation (though it is important to see that these benefits are secondary), but by helping people to achieve true communion with God. He often said that, instead of dogmatizing people, teachers should encourage them to seek true joy in meditation. As he put it, instead of “dyed-in-the-wool” Christians he wanted to see people “dyed in the wool” of their own divine experience, through Kriya Yoga.

We live in a new age. “Self-realization,” Yogananda declared, “will someday be the religion of the world.” People everywhere will realize that the essence of religion is true “gnosis”: knowledge of the inner Self.

The Bhagavad Gita emphasizes also the need for personal experience of God, rather than blind obedience to outer rules. In the final chapter of the Gita, Krishna, in the poetic translation of Sir Edwin Arnold, says:

Krishna is referring here to a path higher than that of formal observances such as fasting, rituals, and good deeds. The path he recommends is that of inner communion with God. In no way is he belittling those who strive valiantly to abide by outer rules. Discipline is necessary, up to a point. There comes a time, however, when the devotee naturally transcends the need for it. A path should not be confused with its goal. The purpose of religion is to guide people out of egoic limitations, not to impose on them a new thralldom.

There is a higher purpose to every scriptural commandment. Consider the commandments of Moses, for example. One of these, “Thou shalt not kill,” may be compared to a teaching in the Indian scriptures: harmlessness, or non-injury. By following this principle to perfection, say the Indian scriptures, one realizes his oneness with all life. Life, then, provides him in return with loving support.

“Thou shalt not steal” says Mosaic law; and again, “Thou shalt not covet.” Non-covetousness is taught in the Indian scriptures as well. By following this principle to perfection, one attains a state of centeredness in the Self. One’s every need, then, is met without effort on his part.

“Thou shalt not bear false witness” declares Mosaic law. Non-lying, again, is taught in the Indian scriptures. By perfect adherence to truthfulness, one becomes attuned to the great symphony of life. One’s simple word, then, is binding on the universe.

If we pay too much attention to outward law, however, we become distracted from loving God deeply. The deeper our communion with Him, the less outer forms of religion seem important to us. For divine love makes it impossible to desire to harm anyone, to covet anything, or to be untruthful under any circumstance.

Grace—and truth. What more does one need? God’s grace in our souls, and complete acceptance of the truth that, eternally, we are His own.

[1]“And no man putteth new wine into old wineskin, else the new wine doth burst the skins, and the wine is spilled, and the wineskin will burst: but new wine must be put into new wineskin.” (Mark 2:22)

[2]Matthew 19:30.