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Sometimes
it seems as though the world is chugging along toward a horrific
destiny in an inevitable, unstoppable fashion, as though it
were a monstrous machine. That vision is a frustrating one for
those of us who would like to make a difference, but feel as
though we were up against an inexorable force. But the world
is a machine only to the extent that the human beings driving
it toward that horrific destiny are themselves unconscious machines,
driven by unchangeable patterns such as "an eye for an
eye". So a good starting point in considering how to create
a new world order is to ask ourselves. . .
Are we machines? If not altogether mechanical, to what degree are we "machine", and to what degree, "free being"? Certainly the signs of "man as machine" are everywhere. We see "man as machine" on the individual level in our habits, our addictions, our oedipal (and other archetypal) patterns; much of our therapy is devoted to purchasing freedom from such past-regimented patterns. We see "man as machine" on the global level in centuries-old conflicts that are endlessly re-ignited by the automatic reactivity of "an eye for an eye". It would take a saint to be able to forgive the enemy who has just killed his family – foregoing the impulse to vengeance, for the sake of a greater purpose. Indeed, many traditions suggest that – as reflected by saints, sages, and other realizers – increasing spiritual maturity is what moves us along the spectrum from the "machine" end toward the "free being" end. It is that movement alone that will enable us to transcend the logic of retaliation. But how does one mature spiritually? To what degree can self-improvement result in spiritual maturity? Or is applying the metaphor of self-improvement to spiritual growth like trying to lift oneself up by the bootstraps? Is help necessary? What kind of help is required? The old maxim, "There but for the Grace of God go I", provides a clue: perhaps apart from circumstance, the only difference between myself and my less fortunate brother who is a murderer is Grace: help from the Greater Reality. "A body in motion tends to stay in motion unless acted on by an outside force". We often learn Newton's first law of motion in the context of billiard balls on pool tables. But the same law is readily observed in "man as machine". I tend to react to men in the same, limited manner in which I tended to react to my own father. I will continue to do so until something awakens me to what I am doing, enables me to see alternatives, and assists me in establishing those alternatives as part of a new, less restrictive pattern. But human beings are rather more complex than billiard balls; much is required to overcome the force of habit or the trend of history. Consider dieting as one example of attempting to overcome an addiction (or any other deep pattern) via self-improvement. The mind idealistically embraces the idea of losing weight, usually rallying itself around some new technique for doing that; but the body remains a distinct voice and force all the while. The mind may rule for a period; but, come that moment in front of the chocolate shop, when that delicious, sweet smell comes wafting out, and sensuously penetrates the nasal passages – instantly, the stomach starts growling, and the body politic initiates a coup d'etat, seizing the throne and commencing a food binge that may last days, weeks, or months. When the mind "comes to", it generally is perplexed about the failure of its program. It vastly underestimated (and never was actually in a position to overcome) the force and depth of the pattern it was attempting to address. A more apt metaphor for "man as machine" than the passive billiard ball is "man as homeostatic system": a pattern of activity which, even when acted on by an outside force, will exert a counter-force, in order to perpetuate the present pattern. Thermostats are built to keep the house at a certain temperature homeostatically; a fall below that temperature turns the heater on, while a restoration to the status quo temperature turns the heater off. Just so, upon persisting at a certain weight for a sufficient length of time, the human body establishes that weight as a "set point" which it vigorously works to restore should body weight go lower (or higher). On the basis of similar observations, thinkers as diverse as Montaigne, Pavlov, Gurdjieff, and Hubert Benoit, concluded that what is possible through self-improvement, or even improvement with the help of other human beings more or less like ourselves, is severely limited. Necessarily, the help we need for radical change or spiritual maturity, on the one hand must overwhelm our homeostatic system in the manner of a great "Outside Force"; and yet, on the other hand, it must also pull the rug out from beneath deep patterns in the manner of Something at an even greater depth (in accord with the principles of depth psychology). The "Grace of God" is a good name for Help which both overwhelms from without and undermines from within. An interesting aspect of many contemporary addiction treatment programs (particularly twelve-step programs) are the steps in which the addict acknowledges the powerlessness of "man as machine" to relieve himself of his addiction, and accepts the need for Grace, or the intervention of a Higher Power, in his life. Just so, all the spiritual traditions of humankind are oriented around the need for Grace, and the establishment of a genuine connection with It, in order to grow not only humanly, but spiritually. But once one intuits the need for Grace: Where to find It? How to link up with It? How to benefit from It? In Western religious traditions, Grace often is viewed as a theological problem: we can readily identify those who got "It" in a big way – from Jesus, to Teresa of Avila, to Moses and Mohammed. We even have stories providing some details of how "It" came to them. But, so far as we know, only a rare few among us are genuine saints, sages, or Spiritual Masters. Up between the lines of these stories sneaks our suspicion that, not only are we not able to help or improve ourselves in any kind of truly radical way; but maybe even the choice of linking up with that which could make the difference is not in our hands either. Hence the thorny theological conundrums about predestination: if some are chosen by God to be recipients of Grace, are all the rest of us simply spiritually damned, with not a thing we can do about it (even though we spend a lifetime at spiritual practice)? Curiously, the traditions of the East communicate an entirely different picture: Grace is readily available! In the East, Grace is not merely a synonym for "luck" or "good fortune". Grace is not only for the predestined. Rather, Grace is a tangible Spiritual Transmission from the Greater Reality, accessible to anybody who is interested, and willing to live the kind of life that supports its steady reception. The Spiritual Master (or Guru) is the means by which one contacts that Spiritual Transmission. Unlike miraculous visitations, which, by their nature, can only come and go in the wink of a mind's eye, the human Spiritual Master serves as a stable, persistent bridge between the material world and the Greater Reality, for the course of the Master's lifetime (and sometimes beyond – we'll get to that a little later). In studying these Eastern traditions, one senses that the traditional Western religious view may be hampered by its lack of a contemporary Spiritual Master who provides a present-time demonstration of Spiritual Transmission. In sharp contrast, the Indian tradition holds that India has never experienced a time without either a Spiritual Master or a saint capable of Spiritual Transmission. The Indian culture has always been one in which the view of the Spiritual Master as the source of Grace is common knowledge, grounded in somewhat less common experience. Those "in the know" are able to point newcomers to the Spiritual Transmitters alive in their time.
Spiritual Transmission appears in the stories surrounding Gautama the Buddha. On one occasion, the Buddha said no word, but simply held up a flower. Most of his disciples were puzzled. But Kasyapa smiled in response, "enlightened" on the spot; the Buddha acknowledged that Kasyapa had indeed received his Transmission. The point of the story is not the visible flower, but rather, the invisible Transmission passing from Gautama to Kasyapa, translating him (in that moment, or perhaps henceforth) into the "enlightened state". That Transmission is said to have initiated the Zen Buddhist tradition. The Zen teaching has been passed on from Master to disciple by direct Transmission ever since. The overt acts by which the Zen Master interacts with the disciple – even unconventional ones such as hitting the disciple over the head with a stick, throwing a rock at the disciple, and the like – can be more deeply understood in the manner of Gautama's flower. They are simply pointers or aids to the Spiritual Transmission that is occurring.
Jesus, Krishna, and Gautama are no longer present "in the flesh". Nonetheless, tangible Spiritual Transmission continues as a living reality. When I found my Spiritual Master, Adi Da Samraj, I was a university professor, living one of the conventional lives of my time, even as the fishermen, Peter and Andrew, or the gopi women cowherds, had been doing in their time. But when I sat before my Master for the first time, his Transmission literally opened up my heart – waves of love for him and for all beings came pouring from me spontaneously, in response to the enormous love I tangibly felt flowing from him to me. By
taking up a way of life devoted to "tuning in" on
that Transmission, my entire sense of reality gradually has
been transformed. On such a Grace-full basis (rather than on
the basis of self-conscious effort with my old sense of "material-only"
reality still intact), over time, the force of all the varieties
of machine-like patterning (emotional, mental, physical, psychic)
that have placed limits on my happiness has gradually diminished,
through their non-use.
In
like manner, the stories of Jesus's disciples communicate a
graceful transformation or "second birth" of weak,
even cowardly men (the women devotees seemed less so), into
extraordinary men "filled with the Spirit", able to
endure incredible hardships (and even horrific deaths) through
their reception of their Master's Spiritual Transmission (symbolized
by the "Holy Spirit").
The twentieth-century Indian Master, Ramana Maharshi, often was asked, "Why don't you help the world?", apparently in response to the fact that he simply stayed in or near his room all the time. Maharshi's answer was, "How do you know I do not? A self-realized being cannot help benefitting the world. His very existence is the highest good." He thus reflected the questioner's limited understanding of Spiritual Transmission; the one who asked the question presumed that benefitting the world requires physical proximity and visible action. Many
traditions suggest that the material world is arising in a Greater-Than-Material
Reality. Realize that Greater Reality (even only partially),
and one will be able to help the material world from the greater
vantage point of its Source (or at least closer to It). Asking
a Spiritual Master why he or she is not out feeding the hungry
is a little like asking the staff of a cancer research institute
why they are not out treating the folks in their neighborhood
for colds. Other doctors are already doing just that! The opportunity
represented by the Spiritual Master and his or her Spiritual
Transmission is rare, and, like those cancer researchers, Spiritual Masters should be completely supported in doing what only they can do.
The
beneficial effect of Spiritual Transmission on the world can
take many forms. The devotees of the Spiritual Master, Narayan
Maharaj, believed his Spiritual Transmission was instrumental
in the final resolution of World War II. The Master would read
a detailed report every day on the war's progress. As the war
continued, leaving large numbers of soldiers wounded and dying,
mysterious wounds would appear on the Master's body, with no
visible cause. As a result, he could neither walk nor eat. Finally,
on September 3, 1945, Maharaj was told that the British had
landed in Japan. He responded, "The war is over. My work
is finished." He died later that same day. But positive benefits on the material level are of limited spiritual value, because they pass, and because we die. While it is not discussed much, in fact every one of the people that Jesus healed died later (even Lazarus). So obviously the eradication of death could not have been the point of these miracles. Thus Spiritual Masters have always sought to re-educate their disciples into valuing more greatly that which is eternal (or at least greater-than-material). For this reason, Masters warn disciples away from the fascinations of miraculous powers in and of themselves, because they only create temporary effects, and thus can represent a diversion from the true but narrow course leading to spiritual growth. To the extent that Spiritual Transmission leads to a more peaceful world and better life conditions, and thus, an environment more greatly conducive to Spiritual life, its use is truly spiritually valuable. But Grace invoked solely for the sake of material gain has always been criticized by the human sources of that Grace.
For
more on connecting with a contemporary Spiritual Master's Transmission,
click here.
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