Beyond Heaven and Earth

by Steven H. Propp

  “Interesting,” Jobran said. “Actually, that’s somewhat similar to what groups such as evangelical Christians, and the Jehovah’s Witnesses teach.” With a smile, he added, “About the only thing that I can say about the ‘Last Days,’ however, is that I don’t have a clue about it!” and they all laughed.

  Dr. Rhaman nodded, and said, “The details of such events are very much unsure, although we believe that they will become clearer as we near the final hour.”

  Abraham looked over at Jobran, who looked at his watch, and said, “Well, I see that our time is almost up. Again, we are very grateful to you, Dr. Rhaman, for giving us so generously of your time like this.” They all stood, and shook hands amiably.

  Dr. Rhaman looked at Abraham, and said, “And I have enjoyed talking with you, my friend. It is sad that there has been such enmity between our peoples in recent years.” He shook his head, and added, “Those Jews living in Palestine from Biblical times always lived in peace with Muslims.”

  Abraham nodded and sighed, then said, “Although there was a Zionist movement from the nineteenth century and even earlier, it was the Holocaust— Hitler’s attempt to liquidate the Jewish people in World War II—that gave the impetus to Jews to have their own country, and that’s why the nation of Israel had to be established.”

  Dr. Rhaman looked genuinely puzzled. “Why didn’t the Jews simply come to this country to escape Hitler?”

  Abraham’s voice turned soft, and said, “America—to its shame—had a tremendous restriction on the number of Jews that were allowed to emigrate here during the Second World War, as well as afterward.”

  Dr. Rhaman laughed gently, and said, “Ah, we Muslims in America understand restrictions on immigration—particularly after the terrorist attacks of September 11th.”

  Abraham then asked a question of his own, “I’m curious—if the Middle East is such an Islamic paradise, why have so many Muslims come to this country in recent years? Why don’t they stay in the Middle East, where they can practice Islamic law and culture without interference?” Jobran looked at Abraham disapprovingly, but the Imam seemed not to be offended by the question.

  Dr. Rhaman said, “We come here for the same reason that all Americans came: for the greater opportunities provided by this country. This country has the finest schools, and the highest standard of living.” He then looked troubled, and added, “And quite frankly, many of us actually oppose some of the national practices being done in the name of Islam in some ‘Islamic’ countries such as Afghanistan. To my mind, many of these practices are more influenced by ethnic or national traditions, than by the influence of Islam itself. They have mingled their nationalistic practices with our religion, and are calling it ‘Islam.’”

  Abraham nodded, and said, “Another question: We Jews have a problem with assimilation when we come to countries such as America, and leave behind our insular communities; 2nd- and 3rd-generation Jews often abandon all or most of our unique cultural practices, for example. Do Muslims and Arabic peoples in this country have that same problem?”

  Dr. Rhaman looked sad, and replied, “Unfortunately, we do. Many of our young people are completely captivated with the images they see on American television, and they refuse to study or learn anything about their Islamic heritage and culture.” His voice slightly trembling with anger and emotion, he added, “They abandon traditions that have been carried on faithfully for hundreds of years, in favor of obscene movies and filthy music.”

  Jobran voiced his agreement, saying, “That’s certainly a complaint that many Christian parents have, as well. Most American teenagers would much rather watch music videos showing the lead singer constantly grabbing his crotch, than go to Sunday School or read the Bible.”

  Dr. Rhaman looked directly at Abraham, and said quietly, “I think that at least part of the reason for the resistance of Arab peoples to the Jews in Israel is because it is felt that they are imposing an alien Westernized culture on these lands, which will ultimately poison and corrupt our own rich heritage.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Please, do not take this the wrong way: We are grateful for the benefits of Western technology, such as electricity, modern transportation, and electronic communications—that is why we want to take advantage of the finest Western schools. But we wish that it were possible to take the benefits of the West, without their corresponding pitfalls.”

  Jobran said, “Well, that’s probably as good a note to end on as any.” He placed a hand on the shoulder of each man, and said, “Well, although we don’t all see eye to eye on everything, at least we have showed that it is possible for sincere persons to honestly discuss matters like these, without being at each other’s throats.”

  Abraham nodded his head, and said, “And Dr. Rhaman, you have once again reminded me that the reality behind a situation—particularly a political situation—is always a great deal more complex than it first appears. I’m glad that we were able to discuss—and even disagree about—these matters, without it coming to harsh words or blows.”

  Dr. Rhaman moved his head vigorously in agreement, and placed his hand around Abraham’s shoulder. “We are all descended from deeply spiritual peoples; we should be able to find our common ground, rather than always fighting about political matters.” He smiled, and said, “I have heard it said, ‘The righteous of all nations shall have a place in the world to come.’”

  Smiling back, Jobran said, “Then who knows? Maybe someday we’ll all meet together—in some place where none of us has been before—and realize that none of us had it exactly right!”

  And with that, they separated.

  (For this lifetime, at least.)

  15

  THOU ART THAT

  Jobran stepped down from the bus to the curb, and the bus pulled away as soon as he was clear. Referring to the map he had drawn, he began walking down the streets to his destination. The further he got away from the road that the bus had been on, the more expensive-looking became the houses. All of them were older homes, with lush and abundant trees and plants, on very spacious grounds. “Very nice neighborhood,” he thought. “Not the kind I’m used to, at all.”

  This was the first time since they had met that Jobran was conducting one of his religious quest “explorations” alone. He missed having Abraham’s car, but he missed his company even more. It was not only less lonely having a companion with him during his religious inquiries, but it made him feel less “strange”—a person walking into a religious service alone is almost invariably looked at with a degree of suspicion. Unfortunately, Abraham was suddenly called away for the weekend for some Jewish conference, so Jobran was alone this Sunday morning.

  After nearly a half-mile of walking (I guess people don’t ride the bus much, around here, he thought), he reached his destination. It was a private residence, with the street address clearly marked, but no other indications that it was anything besides a private residence. Well, I confirmed the address last night in both the phone book and on their website, so I guess I have to assume this is the place, he thought, and started walking up the long, smooth driveway. This had better be the right place; I’m liable to get arrested for trespassing, in a neighborhood like this, otherwise.

  He suddenly felt self-conscious about how he was dressed. As usual, he was wearing dark slacks and a tie—like he would have for any Sunday morning church service—but what was the appropriate dress for a service at the local Vedanta Society center? Jobran had no idea; he had fears of walking into a large room with everyone else dressed in saris, wearing turbans or other traditional Hindu attire, and him looking as foreign to the scene as if he had just been dropped out of a flying saucer.

  Jobran then noticed a sign posted on a large tree that said, “Bookstore,” and indicated the direction; it also indicated a different direction for the “Meeting Hall.” This reassurance brought renewed spirit to him, so he checked his watch, whi
ch showed 10:36—twenty minutes before the service was scheduled to start. So Jobran followed the direction indicated, until he came to a small cottage-type structure (smaller than even his own living room) with a small sign reading, “Vedanta and Indian Books” in its window.

  He carefully turned the doorknob, which opened quietly. The strong smell of incense struck his nostrils. Entering the room, he heard quiet music with traditional Eastern Indian instruments (Sitar, Tabla, drums, etc.) playing in the background; no other person was in the room. Maybe it’s closed on the days they have their services? Jobran wondered. Quietly, he began to look about the room, and saw that the small room was well-stocked with a variety of items: books filled shelves on two walls, incense, scented oils and other things filled another wall, with another wall dedicated to music (CDs, cassette tapes, and even a few record albums) and videotapes—the videotapes mostly seemed to be lectures (“discourses,” they were labeled) of the person described on their website as their spiritual leader, Swami Vedananda. Jobran had read transcriptions of several of the Swami’s discourses on their website, and had been impressed by the Swami’s knowledge of American culture, as well as his apparent great knowledge of Hindu and East Indian spiritual traditions. Jobran looked around for some employee (if only to watch over the cash register that was right by the door), but there was no one. Oh, well; at least this is a quiet place to wait until time for the service to begin.

  He began looking through the books; most of them were, predictably, about Vedanta and other varieties of Hinduism. Most prominent were books by Sri Ramakrishna (they had half-a-dozen different versions of The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna), the Hindu mystic and teacher in 19th century India, who professed to have explored and been able to experience God not only in a Hindu temple, but in a Christian Church, and an Islamic Mosque, but for whom Vedanta was the highest expression of spirituality. Next most prominent were books by Swami Vivekananda—Ramakrishna’s main disciple—who had made such an impression on the delegates at the 1893 World’s Parliament of Religions in Chicago, and whose subsequent speaking tours and other efforts resulted in the formation of the first Vedanta Society in New York in 1894, and later branches (such as the one he was currently at).

  Jobran was startled when the door opened, and a short woman (East Indian, he guessed) dressed in a simple orange sari walked in; she didn’t say anything, but went and took a seat behind the cash register. Jobran glanced at his watch, saw that it was only ten minutes before the service was scheduled to begin, and quickly picked up two small booklets, Hinduism and Practical Vedanta by Vivekananda, and paid for them. The young Indian woman rang up his purchase, smiled as she handed him his change, and said “Thank you” in a quiet voice. Jobran smiled back at her, then left the bookstore.

  Jobran made his way down the path toward the meeting hall. He had to admit that the grounds were gorgeous: The plants and flowers were lovely and fragrant, and very well-kept. He wondered if the grounds might have been the estate (perhaps bequeathed) of some wealthy individual that was very committed to the Vedanta philosophy.

  Although the Hindu Vedas (Sanskrit for “knowledge”)—collections of prayers and hymns, religious rituals, as well as prose texts—are the basis for much of Hinduism, the part of them known as The Upanishads (thought to have been written between 800-200 BCE) are the most “philosophical,” and have formed the foundation for the religion of Vedanta. Vedanta is one of the six Hindu systems or schools, another of which is Yoga (a Sanskrit word which implies “union,” as well as a discipline for the cessation of mental functions; practitioners are known as “yogis”). “Vedanta” simply means, in Sanskrit, “end of the Vedas”; that is, the final portion of the Vedic writings, but also perhaps the “end” or culmination of them. Of the more than 100 Upanishads, 12 are considered the most important, and have had numerous commentaries written about them. The purpose of the Upanishads is simple: to reveal the presence of Brahman—the divine—behind and within everything. The “many” are illusory; everything is unified in Brahman, which manifests itself to us within the Self, or Atman. The Chandogya Upanishad expressed this by stating that “an invisible and subtle essence is the Spirit of the whole universe. That is Reality. This is Atman. THOU ART THAT.” (“TAT TVAM ASI,” in the Sanskrit.)

  Jobran thought as he walked about what an important land India was, from the standpoint of religion: three ancient religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism) and one much more modern religion (Sikhism) had originated there, and all of these religions persisted to this day. There must be something very profound about the environment to have encouraged such a rich profusion of spirituality, he thought. The Western world knows of Hinduism mostly through [1] Paramahansa Yogananda’s Autobiography of a Yogi and the “Self-Realization Fellowship” that he established; [2] Transcendental Meditation or “TM,” founded by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and practiced by the Beatles briefly, as well as other famous people (such as Deepak Chopra in his earlier days); [3] the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (the so-called “Hare Krishnas,” so named by detractors after a repeated line in one of their chants), which is basically a theistic form of Bhakti or devotional yoga centered upon the God-manifestation of Krishna, founded by the late A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, and supported by former Beatle George Harrison; [4]and the endless “Yoga for Health” (actually a diluted form of Hatha yoga, which teaches techniques for control over all bodily functions) classes that yuppies sign up for. And yet, Hinduism and its offshoots—notably meditation practices—have been quietly and subtly influential in the West; often through intellectuals such as Aldous Huxley, who made Vedanta a cornerstone of his “Perennial Philosophy.” With the growing number of East Indians living and working in this country, that influence may grow even further in the future, even as with Islam.

  For Jobran, Hinduism was bewildering in its complexity; much as India herself is complex—although beguilingly so. The most famous and widely-read of Hindu scriptures is probably the Bhagavad-Gita, or “Song of God,” which is part of a much longer epic known as the Mahabharata (probably the longest epic poem in the world; the story of a long conflict between two branches of an Indian ruling family). The Git? is a fascinating book—which greatly impressed Thoreau, during his summer at Walden Pond—and which was one of the prime inspirations for the great Indian religious and political leader, Mahatma (“Great Soul”) Gandhi. The Git? clearly articulates the Hindu principles of the divine force that permeates all life; the identity of the individual human soul (Atman) with the supreme Godhead (Brahman); reincarnation, and the need for fulfilling of our social roles without becoming “attached” to their personal consequences.

  In addition to the Git?, there were other Hindu religious classics such as The Yoga Sutras (aphorisms) of Patanjali, written perhaps 1600 years or longer ago, which founded the Yoga philosophy of the Samkhya (Sankrit meaning “enumeration,” as in the listing and numbering of categories) school, which rejected the notion of a personal God, and taught the duality of existence of soul-force, and matter, with liberation possible through direct spiritual insight. Patanjali’s work (classically called Ashtanga yoga) explained and systematized the various spiritual disciplines and practices of yoga, which are traditionally four: Bhakti yoga (the path of devotion, often centered on the divine manifestation of Krishna), Jnana yoga (the path of knowledge/intellect), Karma yoga (the path of action/works), and Raja yoga (the “royal” path of meditation and spiritual exercises). Then in more recent times, the techniques of Kriya yoga (union with the Infinite through a certain kind of practice) have been advocated by Yogis such as Paramahansa Yogananda, and Sri Aurobindo taught a synthesis of these various systems that he called “Integral” or Purna yoga.

  Sankara’s Crest-Jewel of Discrimination (probably written in the early 8th century CE) is perhaps the principal text of Jnana Yoga. Sankara advocated Monism, the belief that everything is fundamentally one, and is probably most well-known for the doctr
ine that the visible universe is Maya—usually translated into English as “Illusion.” Sankara wrote, “Brahman is real, the universe is unreal.” By this, he did not mean that the universe did not actually appear to us, but just that it did not represent the true reality of Brahman. About our higher self or Atman, he wrote, “The Atman is no other than Brahman.”

  Yet for Jobran, in spite of its being intriguing, Hinduism seemingly taught an “impersonal” or “transpersonal” kind of God, as well as reincarnation—the ultimate goal of which was union with the divine, and not personal immortality— which was of little use from Jobran’s perspective of seeking to be reunited with his wife. Among Hindu sects, it was only the Bhakti tradition that seemed to emphasize a “personal” concept of God, with the possibility of individual life after death. But that’s what I’m here to find out, he thought, as he arrived at the entrance to the meeting hall.

  Jobran enter the open door tentatively, looking around. The fragrance of incense was powerful, but pleasant. Jobran saw three musicians gathered in a corner, performing East Indian-sounding music. (Two of the musicians appeared to be of Eastern Indian origin, but one was Anglo, as were most of the people in the room.) The hall itself was fairly long, with about fifty folding chairs set up; however, of the forty or fifty people that were assembled in the hall, many of them chose to sit directly on small portable rugs on the floor (usually in the cross-legged lotus position so popular with meditators), or on pillows scattered about. Since he was wearing his “good” clothes, Jobran started to make his way to a chair in as out-of-the-way place as he could find, when he heard a voice behind him.

  “Jobran? Is that you?” a male voice asked, tentatively. Jobran turned, and saw—what was his name? Peter something—one of students that was in the teaching credential program with he and Sophia; he was wearing sandals and blue jeans, along with a brightly-colored and loose-fitting shirt. (Jobran also remembered that he never particularly liked Peter—who always seemed more interested in partying than in class work—and his unvarying personality was exuberant to the point of aggressiveness.) Just my luck, Jobran thought, ruefully; after all the times I’ve visited different religions and churches, and the first time I meet someone that I know personally, it’s someone that I don’t even like.