Religion: Plea for Sanity

Religion: A Plea for Sanity

We live in an age of movement, of rapid movement, not only in physical but in intellectual and spiritual affairs also. Everywhere the old barriers are breaking down, the old ideas are disappearing. Religion, which was hitherto regarded as the strongest of all conservative forces, has not escaped this law of drastic change. Some are attempting to clarify religious ideas and reform religious practices; others, of a revolutionary cast of mind, are attempting to dethrone religion from its place in human life. If the revolutionaries succeed, India will lose her distinctive individuality; for religion has been the master passion of the Indian mind, the pre-supposition and basis of its culture and civilisation. The history of India has for its landmarks not wars and emperors, but saints and scriptures.

This historic life of the country is being threatened today by two forces, dogmatic denial and dogmatic affirmation, blank negation and blind faith. These two which agree in their spirit and method, though they differ in their content and conviction, have a common origin, and are the outcome of a singular narrowness of mind or obscurantism.

The denying spirits complain that religion has been a force of dangerous reaction. By withdrawing itself from the scene of mankind’s social agony, it lends support to the existent order. Those who burn with a passion for social justice find religion to be worthless at its best and vicious at less than best. They ask: Is there a God? Does it pay to be upright? What is the meaning of life after all? Is the present distribution of power and opportunity, where a few have a chance to live without working, while the many have their s broken by the burdens they bear, is this order justified? When the evils of the world cry out for redress, is it the time to discuss the state of our souls or the pictures of the unseen? Religion seems to be utterly irrelevant to the problems of the world in which we live.

There is a good deal to be said in favour of this criticism of religion, but it is a criticism, not of religion as such, but of its otherworldly and abstract character. The mark of spirituality is not exile from the natural world. The truly religious are opposed to the injustice and iniquity of the world. They befriend not the strong but the weak and the suffering, those who cannot help themselves. ‘Yasmin sarvanibhutani atmai babhut vijanatah.’ Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. The condition is absolute: atmaiva, thyself. There must be freedom and equality of status. Such a demand would make for the establishment of a universal community of free persons, and require those who accept it to overcome the artificial barriers of race and creed, nationality and wealth. Unless a man is economically secure, he cannot develop his individuality. If he is starving, his personality will wither and die. All attempts at establishing a social democracy, a more equal distribution of wealth and opportunity, may be regarded as a genuine manifestation of the religious spirit.

I should like however to utter a warning. Man cannot find his happiness, simply because we secure for him a sufficiency of material goods. We all know that there are many in this world who have all the comforts and conveniences which wealth can bring, who are yet suffering from emptiness of soul, nudity of spirit. They have done with the radiance and gladness of life. They have no hopes to inspire, no ambitions to realise, no faith to live by, no happiness to which they can look forward. Their minds are distracted, their action is fragmentary and futile. Suppose we succeed in our attempt to build an earthly paradise, where we will have good roads and water-supply, excellent sanitation, free education for all, unlimited picture-houses and soft drinks, golf links for adults, lights, lifts and wireless installations for everyone, do you think they will be contented and happy? Our activities are moved, not merely by the economic motive but also by vanity and ambition, jealousy and ill-temper, or by a noble unselfish idealism or by a dis-interested hatred of injustice and cruelty. Our selfishness and stupidity, our false pride and dignity will continue to corrode and spoil the purity of our personal relationships. We will not cease to ask, “Why do we stiffen, grow old and die?” Man has far horizons, invincible hopes, thoughts that wander through eternity, projects that cannot be attained in time. To find the way to truth, to create a work of beauty, to understand another human soul, he is willing to scourge himself, to endure hunger and thirst, to give up his all. This preference for the values of spirit is not an eccentricity.

The recognition of this vital fact, that man lives for a purpose larger than he sees, and is most himself when he realises it, has been the deepest phase of India's life. Occasionally, perhaps, each of us has had a few moments of impersonal joy, when we seem to tread not on solid earth but on uplifting air, when our being is transfused with a presence that is unutterable, yet apprehensible, when we have a sense of spirit, timeless and eternal, when we touch the very limits of beatitude, where seeking interest and yearning unfulfilled yield to attainment and serenity, when time stops short and life is as still as death, when we contact the universal reality whose shadow is immortality and death, Yasya chaya amritam, yasya mrutyuh. Death and immorality, life has in it the seeds of both, and it depends on us, on our choice, on our effort what we make of it. Life is an opportunity and we can use it for life eternal or dust and ashes. Man’s peculiar position in the world is that he stands between the two poles of Nature and the Absolute, the finite and the infinite. He arises out of the natural conditions of existence, is bound up with these and is subject to them in every fibre of his being. In so far as he is a pure product of nature, he cannot realise the true meaning and purpose of his existence. But he has from the beginning an urge towards a higher perfection, beyond his merely natural status. This urge produces a disturbance of his natural harmony which is the product of animal instinct, a convulsion of his life. A verse in the Mahabharata reads

Amritam chaiva mrutyuscha dvayam dehe pratisthitam!
Mrutyur apadyate mohat, satyenapadyate amritam!!

By moha, by passion, by blindness, by folly, by infatuation, we fall into death; by satya, by truth, by loyalty, by devotion, we gain amrita. To be born, to grow up, to mate, to found a family and support it, would be a human edition of animal existence. To live in the world of sense with the ideals of spirit is the privilege and destiny of man. To make out of common clay true immortals who occupy themselves with human affairs, though they possess divine souls, is the religious tradition of India.

The life of the tradition, the duration of the memory, depends on the continuous appearance of creative spirits. They keep the memory green; they maintain the tradition alive. At the moment, however, there is such a spate of spirituality in our country, that it has become somewhat difficult for us to discriminate between the genuine saint and the spurious one. There are many in India, perhaps more than in other countries, who are willing to impoverish themselves in every way to attain the spiritual goal, and their credulity and hunger for spirit are being exploited by clever adventurers who beat the drum and bang the cymbals, indulge in publicity stunts, to draw recruits. It is therefore essential to exercise the greatest care and discrimination. I can only set forth here a few considerations.

Firstly, a true teacher has to be sought out. He is not readily accessible to the public. He has no airs of superiority and is not anxious for public recognition. Those who aim at these rewards are not free from the weaknesses to which you and I are subject. Saintliness, when genuine, is marked by true humility and love. It is difficult to find it in organizations which believe in signboards and advertisements for their spiritual wares.

Secondly, the true teacher not only imparts instruction but transmits vitality. He helps to raise our being to a higher level. He demands from us, not blind faith and implicit obedience, but alertness of mind and moral restraint. If we are deliberately harnessed in blinkers, or forced into a groove, our minds become muzzled, and we cannot think freely. Spiritual insight is not anti-rational. It may go beyond reason, but it is not against reason. It is the deepest rationality of which we are capable. In it we think more profoundly, feel more deeply and see more truly. The teacher who tells us, “Blessed are those who do not think but believe,” is leading us astray. The Upanishad says, “Tad vijnanena paripasyanti dhirah, tad Brahma vijnanena, visishtena jnanena, paripasyanti sarvatah purnam pasyanti, dhirah vivekinah.” The bold thinkers see Him by means of knowledge. The Gita asks us to cross-examine even the teacher (pariprasnena). Reason is the voice of God. It achieves its end by persuasion. Krishna, after stating his views to Arjuna, tells him “do as you please, yalhecchasi tatha kuru.”

Any teacher who fetters the freedom of the pupil, who has no respect for his personality, is not a true guide. Intellectual death is not the condition of spiritual life.

Thirdly, we progress in perfection only to the extent we progress in purity of heart. We must purify ourselves without ceasing. We are so full of wrong notions, erroneous judgments, passion and malice. We would be ashamed if we only saw ourselves as we really are. Vanity, sensuality, attachment to our petty whims and small comforts, extinguish the lights which make us see the dark side of ourselves. In our blindness, we flatter ourselves and invent a thousand excuses for our weaknesses. If anyone says a word about our faults, we cannot bear him. He will rouse in us impatience, grief, bitterness, fury. The glorification of self, I and mine, in all the fields of life, individual and collective, leads man into darkness and misery. To be truly free, one must be vigilant in casting aside vanity and presumption. Discipline is essential for human life. Whatever we may call ourselves, Hindu or Muslim, Sikh or Christian, whatever doctrines we may profess, their essential character as religions consists inthe effort to get rid of prejudices so as to see the truth, to get rid of selfish passions so as to do the right.

But, unfortunately, many of those who have for their profession the cure of souls, especially those of weak and unstable nerves, practise a kind of sorcery and bewitch the emotional, the immature, the nervy, into a kind of magic sleep. They confuse spirit and sense, religion and the powerful seductions of life. The teacher isunconditionally obeyed and believed, and often worshipped as a God. His moral or religious integrity or depravity is not examined, but he is trusted for his saving power. This unthinking hero-worship has become a pernicious influence on the religion of our country today. No human being has the right to call upon us to believe in him blindly or surrender our moral scruples in obedience to his mandate. Only God can say “Sarvadharman parityajya mamekam saranam vraja,” “Call none your father on earth; for one is your father who isin heaven.” “There is no God but Allah.” There are no middlemen in religion.

The great religious tradition of India can be preserved only if we avoid these two extremes of atheism and blind faith, and strive for right thinking and right living. Tradition is memory; it is humanity’s memory of its own past. This memory dies an artificial or accidental death when it is forcibly interrupted. It dies a natural death when it becomes crystallised and congealed. If atheism succeeds, the tradition of India will suffer death by accident; if blind faith and superstition overtake us, it will die a natural death, of old age, of hardening of arteries. Let us, therefore, avoid these two extremes.

Triveni: November 1934