Beyond Heaven and Earth

by Steven H. Propp

  “Peter…?” Jobran replied hesitantly, unsure of his last name. Peter smiled broadly, and extended his hand, which Jobran shook, noticing that Peter shook his hand slowly and gently; unlike how he would have done it several years ago.

  The forced enthusiasm of his college days was gone, and his eyes conveyed something like deep serenity. Jobran was immediately intrigued.

  “Peter Wilson,” was the reply, gently answering the question on Jobran’s face. “It’s really great to see you here, Jobran! What are you doing? Are you still teaching?”

  Jobran shook his head. “What about you?”

  “I teach Elementary in a Montessori school,” Peter replied. “I really love it; their minds and spirits are so gentle, so precious at that age.”

  This surprised Jobran even more; the Peter he remembered had wanted to teach Social Studies at the high school level—mostly because he loved to engage in political debates and arguments. Jobran had no idea what had so changed Peter, but he felt that it was definitely a change for the better.

  “Do you still see Sophia? You and she were quite an ‘item’ during school?” Peter said, smiling.

  “We…got married, shortly after graduation,” Jobran replied, uncomfortably.

  Peter seemed genuinely enthusiastic, and said, “That’s great! You should have brought her with you.”

  Jobran was silent for an awkward moment, then said softly, “Sophia passed away more than a year ago; she had a heart attack.”

  An expression of genuine sympathy crossed Peter’s eyes, and he gave Jobran’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, and said softly, “I’m very sorry for you, Jobran; Sophia was a very beautiful and loving person, and I liked her very much.” Jobran nodded, but didn’t answer, for fear of his voice betraying his feelings.

  “It’s almost time for our service to begin,” Peter said. “Would you like to sit in the chairs, or on pillows?” Jobran saw that almost everyone, except for a half-dozen elderly persons, was sitting on the floor, so he replied, “The floor is fine.” Peter found a large pillow for Jobran, and they sat down, Peter going immediately into a full lotus position, looking very practiced and comfortable at it.

  “I didn’t realize that you studied Vedanta,” Peter asked. “In college, you always seemed kind of uninterested in religion.”

  You were even less interested, Jobran wanted to say, but didn’t. “I’ve been studying comparative religions for some time, now.”

  “You’ll love our service; our Swami Vedananda is a truly enlightened Master.”

  The service began with a smiling young man wearing a portable microphone leading the group in a devotional song (not in English, so presumably in Sanskrit or Hindi), without any accompaniment. Next, a young woman stood up and welcomed everyone to the service and—presumably for the benefit of “newcomers” (of whom Jobran appeared to be the only one)—explained how their Society was associated with the Ramakrishna Order founded by Swami Vivekananda in India, although each Society functioned independently. She explained how, in addition to this weekly service, they had classes two nights a week where they discussed Vedantic scriptures and held meditation sessions: “This is the best way to learn more about the Society, and Vedanta itself, as well as to receive individualized instruction in meditation,” she said. They also had daily morning and evening meditation sessions in the meeting hall, to which everyone was invited to participate.

  This young woman sat down, and a middle-aged woman with long, straight and graying hair stood up with a traditional guitar, and led the group in another song. (Still not sung in English, but this song appeared to Jobran to have been considerably “Westernized,” using chords and rhythm more characteristic of Western pop and folk music, than the more “free” East Indian music that had been playing before the service.)

  A middle-aged man then stood up (the only other person in the room wearing a tie, besides Jobran), and conducted what seemed like the brief “business” portion of the meeting. (Jobran reflected with a smile that, apparently, “churches” both East and West needed to remind people about subcommittee meetings, sign-up lists, and such.)

  When he sat down, the instrumental trio began playing traditional-sounding Indian music again, and there was a growing sense of anticipation in the room. After several minutes, the music softly faded away, and a man who had been sitting by the side of the room quietly (I didn’t even notice him there, Jobran thought) stood up, and walked quietly to a small platform, deftly seating himself and immediately assuming the lotus posture. He placed his hands together and raised them to his face, appearing to kiss them, then made a slight bow in the direction of the audience, who returned the gesture. The Swami accidentally touched his wireless microphone, causing it to give a slight bit of feedback, causing the Swami to joke, “This Western technology has both blessings and curses,” and the audience laughed warmly.

  The Swami began to speak quietly; his voice had a distinct East Indian accent, yet he spoke English very well. He spoke about the Divine Mother; meditation and devotion; renunciation, and bliss; the illusory nature of the world; the perils of modern society; religious enthusiasm; and pitfalls of the spiritual path. He spoke easily, and without notes, seeming to move effortlessly from one subject to the next, in a (not unpleasant) rambling manner.

  Jobran tried to unobtrusively look about the room and the other attendees. Peter seemed to be in ecstasy, his eyes half-closed, and with a contented smile. From what Jobran could see, this was the same state as the others in the room; the non-directedness of the Swami’s words were seemingly not important—simply being in his presence seemed to be enough for them.

  Without fanfare, the Swami ended his remarks (Jobran saw from his watch that he had been speaking for about thirty minutes), but continued to sit where he was. The original “song leader” stood up again, and led the group in a lively piece, which was accompanied by the instrumental trio. With that, the service was apparently over, and people began to stand up, and stretch their muscles.

  Peter rose from his sitting position, looking rejuvenated. To Jobran, he said with enthusiasm, “Wasn’t that great? How did you like our Swami?”

  “It was very interesting,” Jobran said honestly, but noncommittally.

  “Come on, I’ll take you to meet him,” Peter said, leading Jobran to a line of people that awaited a moment with the Swami. Jobran reflected that they had an interesting cross-section of ages represented here; a few women that were quite elderly, a number of middle-aged couples and single females, and the rest were younger couples and individuals like Peter and Jobran; there were even a handful of small children around, who had apparently been in an adjoining nursery or classroom during the service itself, and who were happily chattering among themselves. Now that he had more time to examine the group, Jobran realized that his first impression had been wrong, and that probably one-fourth or one-third of the group appeared to be of East Indian background.

  “Do you regularly practice Vedanta?” Peter asked. “Is that how you heard about us?”

  Jobran shook his head. “No, I’ve just been studying a lot of different religions since Sophia passed away.” Then he added, “I found out about you in the Yellow Pages, under ‘Churches.’”

  Peter looked surprised. “We’re listed under ‘Churches’?” He gave a small laugh, then said, “Of course, we don’t have anything against churches—or any religion, for that matter. We believe that all paths can be followed to lead to God, the Ultimate Reality. There is a Sanskrit hymn that we often quote, comparing the paths to God to the natural flowing of water:

  “As the different streams

  Having their sources in different places

  All mingle their waters in the sea.”

  They had now almost reached the head of the line, so they waited silently. When Peter was first in line, he stepped up and quietly bowed his head before the Swami, who
gently placed his hand on his head for a moment. Peter then straightened up, and motioned for Jobran to come over, and said, “Swami, this is Jobran; he’s a friend of mine from college.”

  Jobran made a slight nodding motion with his head to the Swami, and studied his face. He had long graying hair and a full beard; his face was well-lined, but this seemed to suggest character, rather than age, and his eyes seemed to radiate both kindness and intelligence. Jobran remembered that other people were waiting behind him, so he simply said, “It’s nice to meet you; I enjoyed the service and your message.” Then, with an ecstatic look on his face, Peter led him away.

  “We have a vegetarian meal in the next room after the Sunday service; come on,” Peter said, and led Jobran into an adjoining room. There was a table that was laden with a beautiful array of fruits, vegetables, and nuts. There was hot tea, iced tea, lemonade, and even bottled American mineral water to drink. Since Jobran was hungry (not having had time to eat after he got off work this morning), he made himself a generous plate of fruits and nuts, although he was slightly embarrassed when he saw that Peter took only a few slices of apple and oranges, and a cup of tea. Peter led them to two chairs, against the wall, and they sat down.

  Once they were situated, Jobran asked, “So how did you find out about this place?” He paused as if remembering, then added, “Back in college, you were about the last person I would have expected to be interested in religion, much less Hinduism or Vedanta. You were kind of the ‘party animal’ in our credential program.”

  Peter looked serious, as he remembered back, then said, “Shortly after I graduated, I went through a kind of personal crisis in my belief-systems. Here I was, preparing to go and teach young people about our country and its governmental structure, when that very government seemed intent on pursuing pointless and counterproductive wars: wars against terrorism; against supposed ‘Islamic Fundamentalism’ in Afghanistan; wars against Iraq and Iran, and threats against North Korea, India, and any place that didn’t support our own aggressive aims.” He looked directly at Jobran with genuine passion, and said, “I was particularly concerned with the so-called ‘problem of evil,’ and how there could be a ‘good’ God running the universe, when there was so much evil, hatred, and injustice in it,” Peter said. Nodding at Jobran with a sympathetic look, he said, “If this life is all there is, I thought, then God can’t possibly be a ‘just’ God; why do some ‘evil’ people live long and prosperous lives, while good people—such as Sophia—are often taken from us at young ages? It just didn’t make any sense, to me.” He shook his head.

  “I know what you mean,” Jobran replied, with conviction.

  But then Peter smiled and said, “Then I encountered the doctrine of reincarnation; to me, it provided the perfect justification for the inequities of this life— they are a result of our karma, the cosmic law of cause and effect. As it says in the Bible (Galatians 6:7), ‘whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.’ A single life is not the end of our existence, but we come back again, again and again, until we have advanced to the point of union with Brahman. So for little children who die—before they could possibly have done anything for which they should be ‘punished’—or for people who are born in dire poverty, and other seeming inequities, we just have to remember that their current life is not the only life they will have. For those people who don’t really have a chance in their lifetimes, they will have other opportunities later.” He thought for a moment, then added, “And in fact, their very lack of opportunity in this life may be a result of their karmic legacy from evil deeds they did in their previous lifetimes.”

  “It’s rather surprising for me to hear you say that,” Jobran replied. “Especially since you initially seemed so concerned about social justice, and such. Do you really think that reincarnation of the individual soul is a sufficient explanation for the current conditions of people?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Peter replied, confidently. “The fact of Reincarnation is beyond question. It is proved, for example, by those singular individuals that begin life with extraordinary levels of ability. Take Mozart, for example: How was he able to compose symphonies at age seven, and operas at age ten?” He looked at Jobran, who made no reply, before continuing, “The only way of explaining it is that Mozart wasn’t starting ‘from scratch,’ but that he still retained some of the musical knowledge that he picked up in earlier lifetimes.”

  Jobran looked doubtful. “If that’s the case, then why don’t musicians in each generation get progressively better and better? Who was Mozart reincarnated as? Shouldn’t this person have been an even better performed and composer than Mozart was? If Mozart began composing at age 5, then why haven’t we had people since then that begin composing at age 4, or even 3? Shouldn’t the child prodigies from each generation just get better and better, as they are successively incarnated?”

  Peter appeared stumped. “Hmmm…that’s an interesting question; I’d never thought of it quite that way. Maybe in his next lifetime, Mozart wasn’t incarnated as a musician, since he had already advanced so far down that path.” Then he brightened, and said, “Of course, part of the reason why the doctrine of reincarnation is such a comfort for us Westerners is that it shows that the doctrine of Hell and eternal punishment is false. Reincarnation is even taught by the New Testament—the people of the 1st century A.D. thought that Jesus was either Elijah or Jeremiah come back from the dead (Mt 16:14), and even Jesus’ own disciples wondered (Jn 9:2) whether a blind man might have had this affliction as a result of his own sins—obviously from a previous lifetime, since he was born blind.”

  Jobran found himself moved to defend the traditional Christian position opposing reincarnation (which was strange, since he wasn’t even sure that he believed the traditional Christian position himself.) “The doctrine of reincarnation was of course well-known in the Oriental world, so it’s not that surprising that some people in Judea might have believed it—but that doesn’t necessarily mean that either Jesus or his disciples held such a belief in reincarnation. The statement about the man’s blindness, for example—since they also asked whether it might be caused by his parents’ sins—might just be a statement from the second commandment (Dt. 5:9), that says that God ‘visits the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.’ Otherwise, it might simply be a statement of God’s foreknowledge of the man’s future sins, such as in the first chapter of Jeremiah, where God told him, ‘Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee.’”

  Peter looked at Jobran with new respect. “Say, you’ve really studied this stuff, haven’t you?”

  “Since Sophia died, yes.”

  “This is getting too deep for me,” he said, gesturing toward a middle-aged couple that was standing chatting to another couple. “I’ll get Roger and Lora Bertocelli; they’re the President and Vice President of our Society.” Seeing Peter’s imploring gestures, they excused themselves from their other conversation, and came over to Peter and Jobran, who stood up. Peter made the introductions, saying, “Lora and Roger, this is Jobran; he and I went through the teacher training course together in college. We’re discussing reincarnation, and his questions are getting to be too much for me to handle,” Peter said laughing. Genially, the couple shook hands with Jobran. The Bertocellis were well-dressed and groomed, and looked secure and confident.

  To Jobran, Roger said, “First of all, you need to make sure that you distinguish between the doctrine of reincarnation, and the doctrine of transmigration. Many people are rightly repelled by the notion that we might come back in our next lifetime as some kind of lower animal.”

  “With reincarnation, however,” Lora added, “It would be very rare for a being that had reached the stage of humanity to go back to a lower form, since that would represent a lower level of God-consciousness. Although of course all life forms are intimately connected, once you have reached the stage of humanity, there’s ordinari
ly no going back.”

  “I understand that,” Jobran said, “That wasn’t a problem.”

  “Reincarnation itself really isn’t even the point of existence,” Lora added. “Our karmic actions simply create imprints or ‘grooves’ upon the mind, which—after the person’s death, and rebirth into another body—continue to perpetuate themselves in the next life, until they are finally extinguished by meditation and religious devotion, in favor of union with the Divine Mother.”

  “Vedanta is also often called ‘pantheistic’ by Westerners, which simply and crudely means that ‘everything is God,’” Roger said (trying to explore Jobran’s difficulties). “But the philosophical term ‘panentheism’ is actually the truth, because while God pervades the entire world, he is not exhausted in the universe—God transcends all of life.” Lora nodded, and Roger continued. “In the Vedanta system, the entire universe is none other than Brahman; Brahman is the universe, as well as every creature, “ Roger explained patiently, “All forms of life are simply an outgrowth or manifestation of the Godhead within everything; all things are from God, and all things return to God.”

  Jobran nodded, and said, “I don’t have any problem with thinking of God as being manifest in the world when I am sitting in a scenic location out in the woods, or as I was walking through the beautiful grounds here this morning.” Then with a serious tone in his voice, he said, “But I have a problem reconciling the concept of God with the existence of evil in the world.”